of My Life 



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COWRIGHT DEPOSIT. 




COL. JAMES REID COLE— Sixth Decade 



Seven Decades 
of My Life 



By JAMES REID qOLE 

DALLAS, TEXAS 



Copyright 1913 by 
James Reid Cole 






DEDICATED 
TO MY FAMILY 



QCI.A361245 

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One Word 



I don't know that any one will ever read the following pages; 
therefore, they need no preface, and if they did, they speak for 
themselves. There is no plan nor plot; they merely follow the 
footsteps of one man and the circle that moves with him. They 
travel with the days, months and years, and record what is seen 
and heard in a lifetime. I simply talk, and attempt no fine writ- 
ing or undue enthusiasm to arouse interest. The road is long, 
seventy years long and I try to present the scenery along the way 
and the events, important or otherwise, as they come before me. 
I will be glad to have you accompany me and listen to my tale, 
for you know that everybody loves to talk about himself, if he 
can find a good listener. Some of the men and women I have met 
or who have traveled with me, were good and great, serving their 
generation and making the world better because they lived dur- 
ing this period. I have presented them to you because I was 
happy to be with that crowd, and their example might be bene- 
ficial to you. If you are disposed to criticise an old man for re- 
cording the follies and fancies of his youth, please recall your own 
follies before you throw the first stone, and then take that big 
beam out of your eyes. Some of the historical events here re- 
corded were among the greatest in the history of our country, and 
I was connected, in some way, with many of them, and acted my 
part to the satisfaction of the great men under whom I served, 
according to their written testimony. Goethe, the great German 
Poet, says, "Each ten years of a man's life has its own fortunes, 
its own hopes, its own desires." Recognizing the truth of this 
saying I have divided this sketch of a man's life into decades. 
So here's to you and yours, and "May you live long and prosper." 

J. R. COLE. 



CONTENTS 



THE FIRST DECADE 
Chapter 1 9 

THE SECOND DECADE 

Chapter II. — Stokesburg and Greensboro 17 

Chapter III.— Trinity College 27 

THE THIRD DECADE. 

Chapter IV.— War. Ft. Macon 35 

Chapter V.— The Battle of New Berne 42 

Chapter VI. — Gillett's House and Richmond 48 

Chapter VII. — Jerusalem and Fredericksburg 55 

Chapter VIII. — Chancellor sville and Kinston 62 

Chapter IX.— End of the War 68 

Chapter X.— The West , 73 

THE FOURTH DECADE 

Chapter XI. — Running for the Legislature 79 

Chapter XII.— The Twelfth Legislature *. 84 

Chapter XIII. — The Centennial Celebration 89 

THE FIFTH DECADE 

Chapter XIV.— At the A. & M. College 94 

Chapter XV.— Abilene 100 

THE SIXTH DECADE. 
Chapter XVI.— Dallas 105 

THE SEVENTH DECADE. 

Chapter XVII. — Louisville and Lexington, Va 115 

Chapter XVIII. — Baptist University 123 

Chapter XIX. — In the Philippine Islands 128 

Chapter XX. — War Pictures. Harpers Ferry, 1859, and John Brown. .135 

Chapter XXI — War Pictures. Sharpsburg, Lee and McClellan 139 

Chapter XXII. — War Pictures. Gettysburg, Lee and Meade 144 

Chapter XXIII. — Stonewall Jackson 151 

Chapter XXIV.— A Look at Texas 155 

Chapter XXV.— A Birds-Eye View of Our Country 163 

Chapter XXVI.— The Fortunes of Ten Beautiful Girls 170 

Chapter XXVII.— The Result 184 

The Patriot. — A Romance of Love and War 189 



Seven Decades of My Life 

CHAPTER I. 

The clock is about to strike the midnight hour of the twelfth 
of April, 1913, as I begin this record.. The rain has ceased to fall 
upon the roof and beat against the windows. The lightnings no 
longer flash in the heavens, and the thunder has ceased to beat 
the Long Roll in the battle of the clouds. The river, flooded by 
the storm, rashes on to the Gulf. All is quiet in the city except 
now and then the rumbling of a late street car passing the Ca- 
thedral is heard, or the galloping of a horse on Ross Avenue re- 
minds you that a policeman is hunting for a burglar. At this 
hour I am sitting alone in my "old arm chair" while the fire burns. 
My memory on the wings of the wireless telegraph, is flying back 
over the seven decades of my life and presenting the moving pic- 
tures as I traveled over mountains, and rivers, and valleys, and 
oceans, and gulfs. 

There are pictures of childhood and manhood and old age; 
pictures of love and battle, and joy and sorrow; pictures of suc- 
cess and failures, of struggles and peace; pictures of music and 
discord, of friends and enemies. 

I propose to talk about these pictures for a while, I don't know 
how long. You needn't listen unless you like; it won't hurt you 
to listen, and it may not make you any wiser; it may put you to 
sleep and that will be well, or it may help you to while away an 
hour when you have nothing better to do. There will be nothing 
wonderful about these pictures, for they will represent the move- 
ments of an ordinary life and I am no great artist. I propose to 
divide these seventy years into Seven Decades and compare the 
importance and the work of each with the others. First, when 
the rod was not spared; Second, when the girl appeared; Third, 
when the wife was found; Fourth, when the voices of children 
were heard; Fifth, when the battle for bread was on, and the city 
lured; Sixth, when the footprints were on the mountain top and 



the face was towards the sunset; Seventh when the yellow leaf 
was fluttering in the wintry winds and the snows began to fall 
and the time approached when "the silver cord was to be loosed, 
or the golden bowl was to be broken. " 

As these moving pictures come out of the dark recesses of 
the past, men and women, boys and girls will walk along the high- 
ways or will ride on prancing steeds, or will sail in vessels on the 
deep waters. They will not always be silent, but you may hear 
the laughter of children the soft voices of love, the booming can- 
non, the thundering shock of the charging squadrons, the clash 
of sabres, the shout of victory, the music of triumph. I will in- 
troduce you to great men and women and lovely maidens. I have 
met the great men; I have admired the beautiful women; I have 
loved the lovely maidens. In every man's life there are three 
wonderful, beautiful, solemn events — birth, marriage, death. 
I am not talking about old bachelors. Now I will begin. 



10 



THE FIRST DECADE 

On the 17th of November, 1839, I made my first appearance 
on the stage of action. I suppose the sun was shining, and the 
breezes were blowing, and the cocks were crowing, and there was 
much running to and fro. I suppose so, I don't know, I don't 
remember, though I know I was there. The first person I saw was 
the gentlest, sweetest woman in the world — my mother — Eliza- 
beth Murphy Cole, and the first man that my gray eyes beheld 
was a soldier, planter, and preacher — my father — Major William 
Carter Cole. And there I was "rocked in the cradle of the deep" 
Snow Creek, in Stokes County, North Carolina, "near the Virginia 
line." Though I have met many great and good men in my life, 
it is becoming in me to mention my father first. I was his ninth 
son and his twelfth child, his work was finished when he was about 
fifty years old, and he died and "was gathered to his people" be- 
fore I could know him. He was known as a good man, an indus- 
trious planter, a brave soldier of the war of 1812, a devoted minis- 
ter of the gospel, a just magistrate. His first wife, Susan Clement 
of Virginia, gave him six sons and two daughters. His second 
wife was the mother of three sons and one daughter, the oldest 
son dying in childhood. 

Let me group together these eleven grown sons and daughters, 
and introduce them to you by name, and you may see what kind 
of a father was theirs by the names he gave them. Here they 
come in the order of their ages: Robert Bangs, Nancy Jane, 
Letitia Elizabeth, Barzillai Lipscomb, William Walter, John 
Wesley, Thomas, Franklin, Isaac Newton, Christopher Columbus, 
Susan Ruth and James Reid. 

The descendants of these sons and daughters of our father and 
mothers number more than two hundred, making five generations 
forward, and there were eight or ten generations back from my 
father in Virginia. My widowed mother with her three children 
went back to the home of her father, Jesse Murphy, in Patrick 
County, Virginia. Here my memory dwells on the joys of my 
childhood, the apples and peaches and pears and cherries and 
plums and flowers of a happy home, where the servants lived in 
their cabin homes and sang as they worked among the yellow corn 

11 



silks, and harvested the wheat in the summer time, and we gath- 
hered the walnuts, hickory nuts, hazel nuts, chestnuts 
and chinkapins; and the strawberries, blackberries, dew 
berries, raspberries and whortleberries; and just look at the 
chickens! We listen to the crowing of the rooster, the quacking 
of the ducks, the gobblings of the old turkey gobbler, the screams 
of the geese, the chatterings of the guineas, and the proud peafowl 
with its gorgeous tail spread for our admiration: and the horses 
and ponies and hogs and lambs and goats. And are you going to 
forget the great striped watermelons with their red and yellow 
meat, and the golden muskmelons so delicious? O glorious old 
times, on the old plantation while we drank the cold spring water 
and bathed in the "babbling brooks" and devoured the yellow 
yams and roasting ears and chicken pies! We were surrounded 
by the old families, our kindred and neighbors and friends, the 
Murphys and Penns and Tatums and Dodsons and not far away 
the Critzs and Staples and Scales and Stuarts (Jeb's People) ; all 
were good, some became famous as warriors, governors, judges 
and statesmen. All hail dear old Patrick County! I still carry 
your picture in my heart, though half a century has passed since 
my horse galloped over your by-ways, and I heard the winds howl 
over your hills. 

There we laid to rest our octogenarian grandfather and 
grandmother away back in the 40's, and my mother, with her chil- 
dren and servants, moved to her own plantation only a mile away. 

We didn't have colleges and universities and palaces in those 
good times, for we were living among the ancients in the back 
woods in the days of slavery, where it was not considered in good 
form ever to go out of your own county. Every man was his own 
monarch, and every woman a queen, and the man of the woods 
and the woman of the home were the lords and ladies of the land. 

A school house at a camp ground was about three miles from 
our home, and when I was about five years old I walked to that 
school with my sister who was a few years older. We crossed the 
creeks on "foot logs" and followed the way blazed by the axe for 
our direction. The teacher was a good old man whose name was 
Dodson. 0, I didn't learn anything except to endure some hard- 

12 



ships, become acquainted with boys and girls, and receive the 
impressions of strength and independence that was a part of a 
good education in the future. All these years of the First Decade 
of one's life are the sign boards to noble manhood and the spurs 
to greatness if well directed. 

Two years passed away in our home and the circuit rider 
came to see us now and then and preached in the old school house 
near by, and I sat on the seat next to him as I was preparing to 
follow him on the circuit when I became a man. One day I had 
been fishing with some of the servants and when I returned I 
found my mother dying, and the house full of weeping relatives 
and friends. I was only six "years old and didn't know the great 
loss about to fall upon me, to last all the decades of my life; but 
as I stood by the bedside and saw my mother lying there so con- 
scious, so peaceful and all the people weeping, I began to cry too 
and they tried to lead me away, but my mother said, "Let him 
stay," and I never heard her voice again. They were her last 
words. And I stayed. Thus my earliest recollections were of the 
woodlands and hills and running streams and country life on our 
old plantations in Virginia. 

When the father and mother go away into the spirit world, 
their children are left to the tender mercies of the world to meet 
and endure the fortunes or misfortunes as they may come. My 
father's youngest brother, Dr. John L. Cole of Stokes County, 
North Carolina, was appointed the guardian for my mother's 
three children, and the two oldest were taken to his home and I 
went to live with my half sister, Mrs. Letty Cole Martin, in Rock- 
ingham County, North Carolina, ten miles away from our former 
home. So that by the time I was six years old I had lived in North 
Carolina with my father, and in Virginia with my mother, and in 
North Carolina again with my sister. 

We had fallen into good hands and no outsider could have 
discovered that we were not with our own parents. My sister 
Letty was an excellent woman; her husband, Andrew Martin, 
was a good man, and they raised a large number of children. They 
had a good farm on Mayo River, valleys and hills, river and creek 
and orchards. Here I lived five years, going to school, fishing in 

13 



the river, hunting rabbits and 'possum, shooting with bow and 
arrow, enjoying the corn shuckings, quiltings, log rollings, camp 
meetings, playing and fighting with the boys. The old school 
house was about a mile from our home. It was on a hill in the 
woods and had but one room with a door at one end and a big 
fireplace at the other end, a log cut out of the side gave us light, 
and a wide board fixed to write on; the benches had no backs, 
and the teacher sat in the corner with a long switch by his side. 
The teacher received sixteen dollars a month and boarded around 
among the families free. He was considered a learned scholar if 
he could carry you through the " double rule of three" in arith- 
metic. We played marbles and "cat" and soldiers, for the Mexican 
war was then going on, and we saw the pictures of our great 
generals and scenes of battle. Cat was a great game in those 
days and was the forerunner of town ball in the villages and 
towns and town ball was the forerunner of baseball, which people 
go crazy about now. I learned rapidly at those old field schools 
and an old negro once asked me what I was studying and I told 
him "Reading, Writing, Arithmetic and Grammar," which was 
doing pretty well for a nine year old boy. He then asked me what 
I would study next, and I told him "Geography." And what 
next, he asked, and I told him "O nothing, there isn't anything 
to learn after that." We had to write compositions and read them 
to the school. The teacher would take a goose quill which we had 
pulled out of the wing of an old gander, and, with his knife, make 
us pens to write with, for we had never seen a steel pen, and we 
would gather from big oak trees "Ink Balls" and make our ink. 

I had to write a composition about a horse. The result was 
about like this: "A horse is a animal which we ride on. He has a 
head and four legs and a tail. He can walk and trot and gallop. 
A cow has four legs too and a head and a tail and two horns. We 
don't ride on a cow." 

The people about there thought I was a smart boy and prophe- 
sied great things for me. Fifteen years after that composition, I 
was commanding a Confederate Regiment in the great war, and 
the teacher that made me write that composition was a private 
soldier in my regiment and took great credit to himself for my pro- 

14 



motion, and an old neighbor whose boys also attended that school 
was in the regiment, and we had not met since the days of that 
school ; he was delighted to see me and said, while he was laughing 
heartily, "I always knew you would be a great man." That 
composition showed that I was on the way. 

Ten miles away at the little town of Madison on Dan River 
I saw my first circus. It was wonderful to my youthful eyes. 
The prancing horses, the lofty swingings, the splendid horseman- 
ship, the somersaults, the funny clowns, the great giant, the old 
woman on horseback who said she was two hundred and tooty 
too years old, the fight of the giant and the clown running among 
the negroes in the circus and the wild flight of the negroes, all 
combined, was the greatest thing in the world to me. Within a 
few miles of each other in these two back woods counties of Vir- 
ginia — Patrick and Henry, and Rockingham, North Carolina, four 
boys were living who became great and noted characters in after 
life. 

J. E. B. Stuart, the celebrated cavalry leader in the army of 
Northern Virginia, I saw on the battlefield of Fredericksburg. 
He charged over the breastworks of General Joe Hooker at Chan- 
cellorsville and died on the battlefield of Yellow Tavern. 

General Alfred Scales was my commander on the Rappahan- 
nock in Virginia and fell badly wounded at Gettysburg and after- 
wards was governor of North Carolina — a fine character. 

Col. Alexander Terrell, whom I met nearly twenty years after 
the war in Austin, Texas. He became Minister to Turkey by 
appointment of President Cleveland. 

Hon. John H. Traylor, a distinguished senator in Texas and 
Mayor of Dallas, whom I knew well thirty years after we were 
scattered by the war of secession. 

Here ends my First Decade. I had spent five years in this 
good home. I had associated with boys and girls in the schools 
and social gatherings and met them in after years far away under 
interesting circumstances. Twenty years later I was leading a 
cavalry command among some of these scenes to meet an invad- 
ing enemy. 

15 



This sketch of the First Decade of my life may not be inter- 
esting to you — I was only a boy, but it was the beginning, it was 
the foundation, and the Blue Back Speller and Pikes' Arithmetic 
and Smith's Grammar are "dear to my heart with the scenes of 
my childhood." The sun still shines on the hills and the valleys 
of my childhood homes. Bull Mountain yet stands 

"Lofty and lifeless and pale in the sky 
Like the ghost of a giant creation gone by." 

With fond recollections and love for those good people who 
have long ago crossed over the river, I bid farewell to my child- 
hood days and step over the line into my Second Decade. 




16 



SECOND DECADE 

CHAPTER II. 

Stokesburg and Greensboro. 

One beautiful day in the spring of 1851, a young man drove up 
to the gate in front of our house, hitched his horse and came in. 
He was my brother Frank, lately returned from Mississippi, 
Louisiana and Arkansas. 

We had not seen him since he left the State in 1844. He came 
to carry me into Stokes County, twenty five miles south to make 
my home with my brother William. He was a single man and made 
his home in Stokesburg with my brother. He died a few years 
after this while on a business trip to South Carolina. 

A few years before this my brother William had graduated in 
medicine, settled in Stokesburg, had fallen in love with a fine 
young lady, rich and accomplished, and, failing to receive the 
consent of her parents, took her up behind him on his horse, gal- 
loped away in the night, after a storm of rain, swam the turbulent 
waters of Town Fork, and they were married by a fine old magis- 
trate, William A. Lash, and lived happy ever afterwards. My 
brother William was a handsome man of about twenty seven when 
I entered his family. He was a physician, a merchant, a planter, 
a manufacturer of tobacco, and served on various other enter- 
prises. My life here for two years and a half was pleasant and 
agreeable every way. I attended schools in the neighborhood 
and Sunday School at the churches. I learned rapidly and be- 
came a good rider on horses, which made me feel at home in the 
" Third Decade" when I became a cavalry man in the 2nd N. C. 
Cavalry and had to drill a regiment of horsemen. While attending 
school about two miles from my home one day the boys resolved 
to "turn the teacher out" or make him give us a holiday and treat 
us. This was the custom in the olden times and the school had a 
great deal of fun on those occasions. If the teacher refused our 
demands we were to take him to the branch or pond near by and 
duck him. One of the larger boys was to make the demand and 
the rest of us were to stand at his back. But, alas, a great long 
switch stood in the corner handy to the teacher and he was a 

17 



stern and strong man. The big boy couldn't face the ordeal, but 
became very studious. Time flew on, the school was about to be 
dismissed, and our holiday and candy were about to fade away. 
Though I was only thirteen years of age and trembled at what 
might happen, I couldn't stand the failure of our plan, so I rose 
and marched up in front of the teacher and said, "We want a 
holiday tomorrow and a treat of candy." I looked around for 
help. One brave boy stepped up to my side; he was about my age. 
His name was Aurelius Blackburn. All the other boys were study- 
ing hard. The teacher reached around for his big switch and 
slamming it against the floor, commanded "Take your seat, 
sir!" I looked around for Blucher, but he didn't come to my 
assistance, and I had my "Waterloo" and marched back to my 
seat a conquered soldier. That boy who stood by me, fell at 
Gettysburg, a brave captain leading in the desperate battle. That 
teacher was a young man and fine looking. He was in love with a 
very beautiful woman a few miles away. He labored several days 
in writing to her a long letter on which his future happiness might 
depend. It was beautifully written. One day he left these pages 
lying on his table in the schoolroom. I accidently knocked up 
against the table and overturned an ink stand and spilled the ink 
all over the letter. 

I expected a row and a whipping if he found out who did it. 
When he came in and saw what had happened, he looked over the 
school and said, "Who did this?" Of course none of the others 
said a word, but I arose and walked up to him and said, "I did 
it, I didn't go to do it." He looked at me for a moment and said, 
"Take your seat." I learned a valuable lesson there which I have 
found in all my life the proper thing to do. If you have done 
wrong unintentionally, if you have committed a fault uninten- 
tionally, if you have offended unintentionally, don't lie about it, 
don't put the blame on some one else, don't dodge every time a 
rock comes your way. If you do, you will be on the run the rest 
of your life. Say "I did it, I am sorry, I didn't go to do it." 

There were two pretty girls in that school, But I won't say 
anything more about that. Town Fork was a large flowing Creek 
that some times became a raging torrent. One day when I was 

18 



twelve years old I was bathing in its cool running waters and sud- 
denly realized that I was moving down the stream without touch- 
ing bottom. I knew immediately that I was swimming for the 
first time in my life and I was indeed happy ; for to swim through 
the waters and feel yourself above the waves beneath you is one of 
the happiest experiences of every boy who lives near a river or 
creek. 

Dr. William Cole was a member of the Methodist Church, as 
were his father arid mother and all his brothers and sisters. He 
took me in his buggy one day and carried me to a church several 
miles from his home to hear our new "circuit rider." It was on 
a Saturday in the country. I suppose the preacher did the preach- 
ing and praying and the singing, for there were only three of us 
all told. I was no judge but I thought he preached a fine sermon 
and he must be a good man to put himself to so much trouble as 
to preach an hour to one man and one boy. I attended a "quar- 
terly meeting' ' at the same place some time afterwards and heard 
the Rev. Peter Doub, the Presiding Elder. He was a giant in 
stature and intellect, and thought he was cheating his congregation 
if he didn't preach two hours, for they would come several miles 
to hear him, and a thirty minute sermon wouldn't pay them for 
their trouble. He was a friend of my father, and when I came to 
Texas in the Third Decade, he placed his hands on my head and 
blessed me. 

There was a young man in the neighborhood, of good family 
and fine looking, a merchant and popular legislator. One August 
day in 1853, he brought to our home that good old magistrate, 
William A. Lash, and he married that young merchant, James E. 
Matthews, to my sister, who walked three miles to school with 
me in Patrick County, Virginia, when she was a little girl. She 
was in the senior class at the Greensboro Female College and 
on a visit from her home to her brothers' family and was only 
sixteen years of age, but always thus it was "the way of a maid." 
She is visiting my family now, away here in Texas, while I am 
writing this page, 7 6 years old, and her children and grand chil- 
dren are scattered from the Rocky Mountains to New York, and 
from Kansas to the cane breaks of Texas. 

19 



The principal families around Stokesburg were prominent and 
excellent people — the Lashes, the Daltons, the Matthews, the 
Coles, the Blackburns and the Poindexters. A few miles away 
the richest famly in the state, the Hairstons, owned five great 
plantations on Dan River, each with an overseer and a chief over 
all, and about a thousand slaves cultivated the land. In those 
slavery days the aristocracy lived in the country, and there were 
not many towns in the state with more than a thousand inhabi- 
tants. I was now in my fourteenth year and was strong and 
active and self reliant. Often times I was sent up in the moun- 
tains to Danburry, the County Seat, on horseback alone to attend 
to business for my brother. One day I went to the little town of 
Germantown to attend an entertainment given by an eminent 
teacher and preacher, Rev. Everheart. I think I stayed all night 
with a brother of those two pretty girls mentioned a little while 
ago. One of the speeches was delivered by John Penn, with whom 
I attended school years ago in Patrick County. I enjoyed the 
speech and occasion so well that I memorized the poem. 

"It was one summer's evening, Old Kasper's work was 

done, * * * 
"Pray tell us all about the war 
"And what they killed each other for." 

That boy became a gallant soldier and lost a leg in battle. 

It was a summer day in 1853, that saw my brother C. C. Cole 
(Lum) drive up to our home to take me to Greensboro to live with 
my guardian and uncle. I had lived nearly fourteen years in the 
country, had all the experience of a country boy of that age, had 
become an expert farmer — yes indeed. I had seen the corn planted, 
plowed, hoed, pulled and shucked, I had seen and admired 
the beautiful tassels and silks and the green blades stripped 
from the stalk; I had seen the wheat come up through the ground 
and wave beautifully in the wind, found partridge nests full of 
eggs in the fields when the reapers cut the wheat with their scythes, 
and the flails knocked out the fat yellow grain; I saw the "hands" 
pull the flax, and break the flax and hackle the flax; I saw the 
cottonseed planted and the bolls open and the white cotton picked 
and heard the spinning wheel, and watched the busy shuttle of 

20 



the loom fly back and forth to make me a new suit of clothes; I 
saw the workmen make a rich bed and sew the tobacco seed and 
take the "plants" and put them in hills and cultivate the stalks 
and cut them, and cure them in the barn, and strip them and stem 
the leaves and roll them into a round plug and put them in the 
press to become beautiful flat plugs, fit for those who loved that 
kind of thing. I helped to raise watermelons and yellow yams, 
and gather apples and peaches and carried them to a still house 
and made sweet cider and hard cider and various other things. Yes, 
I reckon I was an expert farmer when I was thirteen years old. I 
have even mounted a horse and climbed on top of a bag of wheat 
to carry it to the mill, and watched the white soft flour pour out 
like the beautiful snow, ready for the biscuit with ham and eggs. 
No one will dispute that I was a learned farmer. 

One day I mounted a horse and rode twelve or fifteen miles 
to the Court House. I didn't know much about law and the cus- 
toms about the Court House, but I had curiosity and was not 
easily abashed, so I went into the building where they were trying 
a negro for his life for burning somebody's barn. I marched up 
to the bar and took a seat among the lawyers. I felt perfectly 
at home. A fine looking lawyer, I think his name was Watts, 
was walking around within the bar with a paper sack full of candy 
and presented it to his brother lawyers. When he came close to 
me he handed me the candy ]'ust as he had done the others. I 
would be willing to vote for that man for President of the United 
States if he was a Democratic candidate. See how a little kind- 
ness clings to the memory through all the revolving years. 

The slaves belonging to our estate were publicly hired out on 
the first of January of each year, and the proceeds applied to the 
education and all other expenses of the three children of my 
mother. A good field hand hired for about thirty to forty dollars 
for the entire year, but he received his food and clothing and medi- 
cal attention and general care and protection. 

I bade farewell to my country kindred in August, 1853, and 
arrived in Greensboro to live henceforth with my guardian's fam- 
ily. This family consisted of my uncle and wife and two sons and 
two daughters and my brother Lum. It was a refined, religious, 

21 



highly educated family with such surroundings and associations 
as to present no occasion or temptation for going wrong. All were 
college students or to be, or graduates of college. For social ac- 
complishments and music and painting, they excelled and, alto- 
gether, it was a happy family. My uncle, Dr. Jno. L. Cole, was 
about five feet six inches high and about the same distance around 
the body. He was bald headed, active and good natured. Greens- 
boro was a beautiful little city of about three thousand inhabitants 
with fine homes and families and churches and two female colleges 
and one institute or high school, and several public schools. 
Beautiful flowers graced many fine homes and the town was 
generally called the "City of Flowers." I attended the high school 
under the instruction of Prof. Holbrook of Harvard nearly three 
years and for a while received special instruction from a brilliant 
young lawyer, Wm. L. Scott, a graduate of the University of North 
Carolina. Some of the boys in that school greatly distinguished 
themselves in after years in civil and military life. One of these 
especially had a singular career — Lucius Garvin. He was a little 
younger than myself. We were intimate schoolboy friends. We 
parted when we went to college, he went north and I remained in 
the south. The war separated the two sections for four years. 
His parents were New Englanders and he became a federal sol- 
dier and I a confederate. We never met for forty -five years, nor 
did we know whether the other survived the war. I saw in the 
paper of 1904 that Rhode Island had elected Lucius F. C. Garvin 
Governor of that State. I immediately wrote to him and asked if 
he was my boyhood friend of North Carolina. I soon received a 
reply, delightful of old boyhood days and memories. He asked 
me to meet him at the Exposition at St. Louis on Rhode Island 
Day. I did so. And you may imagine what a meeting it was as 
he stood surrounded by his staff. He made me his guest for nearly 
a week and at a banquet given by Rhode Island in honor of the 
Exposition officials, Gov. Francis of Missouri, the President of the 
Exposition, said in his address that what surprised him most was 
how a man born in Tennessee and raised in North Carolina and 
educated in Massachusetts could be Governor of Rhode Island. 
But such was Governor Garvin's round-about history. 

22 



Many of the boys of the high school became captains and 
colonels in the Southern Army, and distinguished lawyers and 
judges after the war. There were great men and beautiful women 
in the town that was named after General Greene. Governor Jno.M. 
Morehead was one of the greatest men of the State, a lawyer, a 
Governor, an orator, a millionaire, noble in appearance, polished 
in manners, polite to all, always addressing the boys he met on the 
street. Hon. James T. Morehead was a great lawyer and congress- 
man, and his sons were distinguished lawyers and soldiers. Hon. 
Jno. A. Gilmer was great in stature and mind, a lawyer and con- 
gressman before the war in Washington and during the war in 
Richmond, and his son became a distinguished soldier and judge. 
I could mention other prominent men, and as to the beautiful 
women it would take too many pages to record their names and 
to describe their lovliness of face and form and grace of manners — 
it would take a book and an artist. We took off our hats to our 
great men and lost our hearts to the sweet girls. 

My life here with all my surroundings was one unadulterated 
round of satisfaction and pleasure. School, church, girls about 
equally distributed as to time, but not necessarily of pleasure. I 
listened with great delight to the eloquent preachers, Dr. Deems, 
Dr. Smith, Dr. Doub, Dr. Reid, Dr. Hudson, Dr. Wilson, Dr. 
Jones, and they helped to build and fit me for my future life. 
There were many fine families here to make society a great plea- 
sure to the young people and many of their descendents are there 
yet, while many have wandered around the world and many fell 
upon the battlefields. Among these were the Adams, the Ogburns, 
the Gilmer s, the Lindseys, the Weatherlys, the Sloans, the Cald- 
wells, the Barringers, the Hills, the Scotts, the Whartons, the More- 
heads, and the Coles, and many others. My family surroundings 
and associations formed my taste and character to love the beauti- 
ful, for I was always in the presence of female lovliness and sweet 
music and high example. You will remember that I stated that 
there were two female colleges in the town — one Methodist and 
the other Presbyterian. These colleges were filled with beautiful 
girls from nearly all of the southern states. Receptions were given 
twice a month and the boys and the young men met in the college 

23 



parlors these beautiful girls. You will not be surprised to know 
that I was always present on these occasions and always had a 
favorite. Now I will tell you of a foolish and mean story told on 
me by one of my cousins. I was only fifteen years old and of course 
didn't know much, but was particularly fond of a girl about my 
age. They allowed me to write to her as I was so young and harm- 
less. I gave one letter to a young lady to deliver for me, but in- 
stead of doing it she read it to the whole family, and I suppose it 
was amusing to them, but not to me, so I left the house and they 
reported that I went down in the carriage house to commit suicide 
by freezing to death. As this was carrying the joke too far they 
went out to bring me in to the fire and found me returning of my 
own accord, saying that I would take a warmer day to freeze to 
death. Now of course all this tale was invented and was not true 
but it made them laugh for forty years. The most remarkable 
thing about it was the evidence Showing how blind a lover can be, 
for the young lady was cross-eyed, freckle faced, had a crooked 
nose and a mustache, and they further said that I said I selected 
her because I would never have a rival. All this, I think, was mean 
to take advantage of my youthful verdancy. Now there was 
another one from "way down South/' beautiful in face and form 
and lovely disposition. Her eyes were blue, her voice excelled the 
nightingale or mocking bird in song and she was seventeen and I 
was eighteen. When her blue eyes met mine and her voice, the 
sweetest I ever listened to, sang 

"I have something sweet to tell you, 
But a secret you must keep, 

"And remember if it isn't right 
I am talking in my sleep." 
the world was full of roses to me. I won't tell you what that secret 
was, — if you don't know in your own experience you have missed 
the best thing in the world. Her guardian came for her and I went 
back to college to wait for three years. In six months she was sing- 
ing that song to another, and I was singing "Thou wilt come no 
more Gentle Annie." But the wound soon healed over by the 
arrival of another who came "out of the West," with fair face and 
dark eyes and a soft voice and sweet smile. One Christmas day 

24 



when she was seventeen and I was twenty, four young men and 
four young ladies all lovers, took buggies and carriages and, 
through the woods and by-ways, visited the historic battlefield 
of Guilford Court House, where General Greene and Lord Corn- 
wallis fought their famous battle in the Revolution/ As we wan- 
dered up and down among the great oaks, or sat side by side on 
some fallen tree, what visions of future happiness arose before 
our view and made our hearts beat like the throbbing music of 
a harp gently touched by lovely fingers. When the sun was sink- 
ing in the golden west we returned and left those lovely girls in 
the College, and as we walked away down the wide avenue "Too 
full for utterance" we heard a song, the sweetest that ever thrilled 
from mortal lips coming from the windows, and these were the 
words, O prophetic words: 

"Farewell now since all is over, 
We part for many a year, 
May the waters of life be the cover 

For feelings that once were so dear. 

Vain were the vows that we plighted, 

Would that we never had met, 
Love's a flower that blooms to be blighted 

Or a star that rose but to set." 

One April day when the war drums were beating the long roll I 
walked up the same avenue to bid farewell to this beautiful girl 
until I returned from the war and two of those four girls met me, 
but the hard-hearted President refused to let me see the girl, and 
she returned to the far western home and I had to wait until this 
"Cruel war is over," and then she thought I was "numbered among 
the gallant dead" and she was filling the home of a stranger. 

Now you may laugh at my telling about these unimportant 
incidents in the life of a man, but remember that took place in the 
Second Decade, and the susceptibility to female lovliness and 
appreciation of gentleness and purity and refinement, mingled 
with the music and dreams of youth, would be influential in 
building a fine character and a disapproval of littleness and 
meanness, and I know that the influence on my life was nothing 

25 



but good, and my taste formed under these surroundings and 
v teachings and inspirations have followed me all my days. I never 
said an improper word or did an improper deed or entertained an 
improper thought in connection with the girls of that Decade. 
So, be indulgent, and let me record these happenings and paint 
these little pictures of my heart and mind without a severe critic- 
ism. It may be that some of you have traveled the same way, 
and the memory of other days may be recalled with pleasure. 




26 



CHAPTER III. 

Trinity College. 

The Rackback Society in our school was organized in the in- 
terest of literature, culture and oratory, and being an ambitious 
boy, I applied for membership. The initiation was a mystery 
unknown to candidates. I was taken into a side room and blind- 
folded and tied securely, all mere form as Tom Sloan informed 
me. I was then lead into the Society room and told to step up in 
a chair, then to step up on a table, then to step up into another 
chair; I supposed I was about eight feet above the floor when 
suddenly the tables and chairs were jerked from under me and I 
fell, as I imagined to my death, but was caught up by a rope run- 
ning around a pulley in the ceiling above, so that I was dangling 
between the heavens and the earth with my feet dangling in the 
air and my heart in my throat. I was swung backward and for- 
ward until I was too sick to fight. I was then let down and told 
to dance but I was too mad to comply with their demands, and 
they pulled me up again and hurled me around so high that my 
feet would touch the ceiling, and they let me down again and 
ordered me to dance. I was in no humor to dance and was very 
mad, but thought it would about kill me if I didn't dance and 
should be lifted up again, so I made a great effort, but as I was 
not an expert under the best conditions, I am satisfied that I made 
a failure then for the room resounded with great laughter as they 
cried out "that won't do, swing him up again," and up I went 
round and round and when I struck the floor I fell over in a dead 
faint, and the boys were badly scared for they thought they had 
killed me, but a bucket of cold water dashed into my face brought 
me to, and after studying the matter over I was in for witnessing 
the application of the same proceedings to some other unfortunate 
This would be called pretty bad hazing in these latter days. 

I often went up into the gallery of the Court House to listen 
to the great speeches of the great lawyers, and to witness the trials 
of great cases. My brother C. C. Cole was a student in the Normal 
College in Randolph County, afterwards, Trinity College and was 
about to graduate. After receiving his diploma he returned home 

27 



and established and edited the " Guardian" a temperance paper 
afterwards called "The Greensboro Times." It was an eight page 
pictorial, literary, weekly paper, and he traveled and procured 
many eminent contributors to its columns. Among these was the 
great novelist, historian and poet of South Carolina, Wm. Gilmore 
Simms. This author was invited by my brother to deliver a series 
of lectures in Greensboro and was a guest of our family for several 
days. His lectures embraced, among other subjects, the Origin 
and History of the Indian Race, including the tribes and nations 
along the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans in North, Central and 
South America. As young as I was, I gazed at him and thought 
he was one of the great men of the nation. I was presumptuous 
enough to talk with him about his writings and asked him which 
of his novels he thought was the best and he said "Eutaw." I 
think he said he had written about a hundred volumes. While 
discussing at the dinner table the politics of the country, espec- 
ially Nullification, and Secession and State Rights, he was very 
earnest in the statement of his views and my brother said "You 
then are a Calhoun man." Mr. Simms promptly replied haughtily 
"No sir, I am no man's man, I am my own man." He showed 
that he took no second place to any man. 

At thirteen years of age I joined the cadets of Temperance. 
At fourteen I joined the Methodist Church; at seventeen I joined 
the Sons of Temperance. While I have not always been a tee- 
totaler, I have always been temperate — temperate in drinking, in 
eating, in language, in opinions, in conduct. Never extreme, never 
radical, never demanding from others what I would not grant to 
them, recognizing that I might be wrong and others might be 
right — I am still walking in the "middle of the road." 

I attended the concert in the opera house in our. town one day 
and heard a man famous over the country, it was old Joe Sweeney, 
the greatest banjo "picker" of his day. The present generation 
probably never heard of him but he delighted his audiences of the 
50's with marvelous melody and the sweetest music that ever fell 
from the vibrating strings of the banjo. General Jeb Stuart was 
a great lover of music, and had young Joe Sweeney, the son of old 
Joe, with him in all his marches and fighting during the great war, 

28 



and often the banjo was heard on the mountain and in the valleys 
of Virginia, while the gallant cavalryman and his staff bowed and 
danced and laughed as they gazed into the eyes of the lovely Vir- 
ginia girls. 

I was prepared to enter the Freshman class in Trinity College, 
N. C, when I was sixteen years of age, but was thought to be 
too young, so I engaged to clerk in E. W. Ogburn's book store 
one year. I was delighted with this arrangement for I was fond of 
reading and the whole store of history, novels, poetry and mis- 
cellany was at my command, and I was tired of Latin, and Greek 
and mathematics and English. Here I laid the foundation of my 
literary taste and reading, for there was very little work for me 
to do in the store, and I read all of Rollings Ancient History, 
Plutarch's Lives, Napier's Peninsula History of Wellington's Cam- 
paigns in Spain, Lives of Napoleon and his Marshals, and Wash- 
ington and his Generals, many of Scott's, Bulwer's and Gilmore 
Simms' novels and Cooper's Indian Tales, so that when I entered 
college one year later some of the boys wondered how one small 
head could hold so much knowledge. 

I attended the commencement occasion of Trinity College in 
1856 and witnessed the exercises of appointing and commission- 
ing Marcus L. Wood as Missionary to China. He was a graduate 
of the College and married Miss Ellen Morphis, a very fine woman, 
then a teacher in Greensboro Female College. They left soon 
after for the Orient and she never saw her native land again, but 
devoted her life to the heathen Chinese until her husband buried 
her in the valley of the far away land. in the ancient kingdom of 
the Mongolian Race. Many years afterwards, with his children, 
that husband returned to his native land and became president 
of the college that sent him forth to preach Christianity to the 
heathen. Fifty seven years after I witnessed the ceremonies that 
sent these two missionaries to spend their lives in that almost 
unknown land, I attended a great meeting of Bishops and officials 
and laymen of the Southern Methodist Church in Dallas, Texas, 
and heard many great sermons and addresses and discussions, 
and among the great Bishops, I met and listened to one born in 
China, the son of a missionary and he told me about Marcus Wood 

29 



and Ellen Morphis Wood, and of her life and death, and of her 
children, for he knew them and they went up and down the land 
together in their great work. I felt almost as though I was in her 
presence and talked to her, for though I was a boy and she a grand 
woman, I knew her well; so the incidents of life come together in 
far away places and after far away times and form coincidents, 
and the years roll on towards eternity; and we pass along like 
"Ships in the Night." 

It was a custom in those days, fifty years ago as it is yet, to 
select some great orator of great reputation to deliver the com- 
mencement address, and some great preacher to preach the com- 
mencement sermon; for the closing exercises of the college year 
were noted occasions and the literati and the prominent people 
over the State always attended and made the commencement 
days the culmination of a whole year's work. All the students 
remained for the last hour. The finest brass band within hundreds 
of miles made the oak groves echo with thrilling music, the fine 
regalia and uniforms of the student marshals and managers won 
the admiration of the beautiful girls, the great banquet spread on 
tables beneath the limbs of the giant oaks, under the light of the 
moon, drew the young men and beautiful women like gravitation 
drew that "apple," and the songs of the students swinging over 
the campus proclaimed a happy ending of the year and a joyful 
return to home. 

It was at the commencement of 1856 that Wm. Gilmore Simms, 
the distinguished author, novelist, poet and historian of South Caro- 
lina was chosen to deliver the commenceinent oration. Before a great 
audience of the elite of the State he appeared on the stage ele- 
gantly dressed, a grand figure, and as he came forward he appeared 
to be dazed and staggered as though overcome by what he saw, 
and, throwing up his hands he exclaimed, "Good Heavens, young 
gentlemen, what will become of you all?" Yes, indeed! Like a 
prophet he looked down the long line of the coming years—coming 
with their fortunes and misfortunes, with their joys and sorrows, 
with fame and disgrace. He saw these young men marching in 
the sunshine and meeting the storms, he saw them riding on the 
wings of fame and falling beneath the blows of disaster. Yes, 

30 



what will become of you all? He saw two of these boys leading 
their regiments under the great Jackson and falling at Chancel- 
lorsville. He saw two others w T ith drawn swords falling at Getty s- 
berg; Oh, ring down the curtain, let the veil hide from our eyes 
the storms of the future, let us march on with heroic steps and 
happy hearts in the sunshine and the shadows to meet friend and 
foe. 

"Look on the bright side and not on the dark 
Make the most of the life that is given you." 

In the late summer of 1857, I left my home to enter the Fresh- 
man class in Trinity College, N. C. I was assigned to a room on 
the third floor on the main college building, and my room mates 
were Mack Jones, Wilbur Watson and John Choice. When Mack 
graduated, Charley Ogburn took his place; when Watson gradua- 
ted, his brother Fletcher took his place, and when Choice graduated 
Bob Walters took his place. Four of these boys were from Vir- 
ginia, and three of us w T ere North Carolinians. Socially, intel- 
lectually, physically, they were fine fellows. I had the great good 
fortune of boarding with the family of Dr. Braxton Craven, the 
President of the College. I have seen many great men during the 
many years of my life, great in mind and deeds and fame, but I 
do not believe that I ever saw one greater in intellectual power 
and will and force than Dr. Craven, the founder of this College 
and its President for forty-five years. To sit at his table, to listen 
to his lectures in the section room and his preaching in the chapel 
for four years was a fortune beyond price. He was not only a 
great preacher, a great teacher, a great scholar, a great president, 
but he was a friend of his students and they were devoted to him 
in his life and to his memory throughout the years. There were 
other good men in the college who helped to build the characters 
of the two hundred students in general attendance — Profs. Gan- 
naway, Johnson, Wright, Carr, Robbins and Andrews. 

I passed through the first four years' course in the college and 
graduated in 1861 among the first honor students of my class. 
Those were indeed happy years. With love for my teachers and 
my classmates, and the beautiful girls that crossed our pathway 
and with tears for the noble fellows who fell on the battlefields, 

31 



I raise my glass to drink to their memory and the memory of those 
days. "God be with you till we meet again." When I delivered 
my graduation on " Anglo-Saxon Sovereignty," and received a 
gold medal from Gov. Ellis, a medal given me by the Columbian 
Literary Society of which I was a member, and the President of 
the College handed me my diploma with the degree of Bachelor 
of Arts, and we had listened to a great oration by Governor Ellis, 
we attended a royal dinner given to our class by Prof. Gannaway 
and his good lady. We were happy; why shouldn't we be? Then, 
as the sun faded away behind the western hills and the moon 
came forth from behind the prancing clouds, we feasted at the 
tables of the great banquet and then we promenaded through the 
groves with the beautiful girls and we walked and talked, and as 
the leaves above us whispered to the breezes so we whispered 
about the future. Those girls who had come many miles to add 
to our happiness — were there ever any girls more beautiful than 
the girls of the old North State! 

"Carolina, Carolina, heaven's blessings attend her." 

Farewell to my college days, farewell to the noble boys of '61, 
farewell to the songs and music and love of the Second Decade. 
We are shaking hands with the past, we are turning to the future, 
we are crossing the line into the Third Decade. What do we hear— 
thunder! What do we see — lightning! Tramp, Tramp, Tramp. 

Let me linger awhile on this side of the line before going out 
to meet the stern realities of life. One of my beautiful cousins, 
Hattie Cole, had gone away into a new home, the happy bride of 
Rev. Dr. Hudson, an eloquent preacher of the gospel, a member 
of the North Carolina Conference. In 185,9 I attended the com- 
mencement exercises of the State University at Chapel Hill. 
James Buchanan, President of the United States, had been in- 
vited to be present on this occasion and he gave a reception to 
the people in the college campus. He was a large, grand looking 
man and I gazed upon the ruler of thirty millions of people with 
great interest and awe. He addressed the audience in the Uni- 
versity chapel and seemed to enjoy the occasion. The whirligig 
of time and the decision of the fates were about to load him with 
responsibilities and trouble never before placed upon the shoulders 

32 



of our presidents; but the veil had not yet been lifted. Good-bye, 
Mr. President; in my judgement you were a better and greater 
man than prejudiced history gives you credit for. While at the 
University I met some of the great men and scholars of the fac- 
ulty — Governor Swain, the president for more than thirty years, 
Dr. Hubbard, Dr. Mitchell and others, but the rarest genius of 
all was the Professor of Mathematics, Dr. Phillips, an Englishman 
who, on that account, was called "Old- Bull." He had been in the 
University forty years and had a big head with gray hair standing 
up like a porcupine. He was full of grim humor. I concluded to 
be examined for the junior class and was introduced to him, and 
he kept me standing at the blackboard from eight o'clock to one. 
That did not satisfy him and he said he would have me again 
later. One of the profound questions he asked was, "What is the 
square root of four?" I answered "2." He grinned and giggled 
and said, "Na." I said "Yes." He said "Na, He! He!" I said 
"I know the square root of four is two." Great presumption on 
my part ! "'Na, Na, He! He!" said he. I said "The square root of 
any number is a number which multiplied by itself will produce 
the given number," and he denied it and grinned. Then, said I, 
"What is the square root of four?" "Plus or minus 2, He! He! 
He!" I nearly fell over the bench. He had had his fun and ad- 
mitted me to the junior class, but I went back. In the writings 
of a celebrated German author, we find a remarkable character, 
one the world ought to honor and mankind ought to love, Mettler 
the Peacemaker. He devoted his time, his life, to settling diffi- 
culties and quarrels among his neighbors and acquaintances. He 
was always on the go, and wherever there was discord or trouble 
he would be sure to appear and attempt to bring about peace and 
harmony. I commend this character to all of my readers, that 
they may follow so noble an example. There was another inter- 
esting character who appeared in the South, and whom I met 
immediately after the great civil war. He was a former clown 
of Barnum's Great Show. He went from town to town over the 
South making speeches from stumps and goods boxes to "Lift the 
Pressure," as he said. He amused the people with his wit and 
anecdotes and clown's ways until he "lifted the pressure" from 

33 



their discontented lives. He said no hotel even charged him for 
his board as he was a missionary of good humor and fun. One 
man attempted to charge him when he saw "the missionary" 
leaving his house with his carpet bag, and ran after him and cried 
out that he could never leave his house until he paid his bill. The 
wandering Pilgrim turned about and said he would as soon live 
there as anywhere. Now I request the attention of my audience 
while I introduce a man, a character, a second wandering Jew. 
I have never met him myself, fortunately, and I am sure you have 
never met him, or you would not have been here to-day. There 
was a man in North Carolina in those days not generally known, 
though all people had heard of him. His calling and business was 
peculiar and useful. He has lived always and is still living and is 
liable to turn up at any time. Whenever he met a man or woman 
he left signs of disaster and conflict. Like Hercules he always 
carried a club. I see no chance of his ever dying, and he may meet 
you in America or Europe or Asia or Africa. You had better look 
out. The name of this gentleman — you will observe that I 
speak of him in the most courteous terms — is Mr. Holmes, Jesse 
Holmes, the Fool Killer. Ah, I see some of you turn pale, never 
mind, you have escaped thus far, and I have given you warning, 
be careful, be careful. Now I know what you are thinking — how 
did I escape amidst all of the follies of my youth? Well, I don't 
know but that Mr. Holmes was a little partial to me, but I left 
my home and fled to Texas and you don't know how many bruises 
have been left on me by his club. He is wandering over the land, 
he has his eye on you, and with this warning I will walk over into 
the Third Decade of my life. 



34 



THIRD DECADE 

CHAPTER IV. 

War. Ft. Macon. 
Now I begin my journey into the Third Decade of my life. 
Something over twenty years have passed since my voice was 
first heard on the banks of Snow Creek near the mountains in 
Stokes County. An incident happened at a small village in Vir- 
ginia, in the latter part of 1859, which turned the wheels of the 
lives of millions of men and which changed the destiny of so unim- 
portant a man as I was. How could that be? It was like shooting 
a great cannon up into the heavens, and the exploding shell rent 
the atmosphere, and the storm clouds rushed together in angry 
battle and spread all over the land, and the rains flooded the earth, 
and the winds wrecked the homes, and the storms covered the 
plains with the dead. A few men under the leadership of John 
Brown, a northern abolitionist, invaded the State of Virginia, 
captured Harpers Ferry and the United States Arsenal, murdered 
several citizens, proclaimed the negroes free, attempted a negro 
insurrection, captured and imprisoned prominent citizens, and 
fought the United States soldiers sent against them by President 
Buchanan. This was the first gun of the great war that was soon 
to follow, for the passions of men on both sides of ''Mason's and 
Dixon's Line," North and South, were too hot and blind to be 
governed by reason and patriotism. John Brown was captured and 
tried for murder and hanged by the Virginians, while many in the 
north were proclaiming him a martyr, and in the south a traitor 
and murderer. You could not expect these people to love each 
other with such sentiments. In our beautiful little city of Greens- 
boro, so peaceful and happy, the young men were called together 
at the Court House and a military company was organized for 
war, or peace, or fun, or dress, or whatever the future might bring 
us, and John Sloan was elected captain, Wm. Adams first lieu- 
tenant and James T. Morehead was elected second lieutenant, 
and John Gilmer, third lieutenant. There were about forty mem- 
bers in the company, greatly increased afterwards, and its name was 
"The Guilford Grays." I became a member of the company, and 

35 



all were armed and uniformed and drilled for nearly two years 
before their services were needed. We were not looking for war, 
we were not wanting it. The company was composed almost en- 
tirely of the young unmarried men, only the captain was married. 
He was a prominent merchant and was soon elected colonel of 
the 27th N. C. Regiment. Wm. Adams was a noted young man, 
a graduate of the University, and died on the field of Sharpsburg 
in 1862. James T. Morehead was a young lawyer, educated at 
the University, commanded his regiment in many battles, dis- 
tinguished himself at Gettysburg and is still living, a foremost 
figure in his State in 1913. John Gilmer was soon promoted to 
be adjutant of his regiment, then major, then colonel, was badly 
wounded in battle, became Adjutant General of the State and a 
distinguished judge. 

On April 19th, 1861, two months before I was to graduate and 
step out of college into the world to select and follow a peaceful 
career, I was walking down to the Post Office at Trinity College 
with a companion to get my mail as I saw the old stage coming 
rapidly down the road. The Post Master handed me a letter 
which, when I opened the envelope, read as follows: "You are 
ordered to report to your company immediately." Why? What 
had happened? Abraham Lincoln of Illinois, a sectional aboli- 
tionist, had been elected President of the United States. Seven 
States in the South had seceded from the American Union, be- 
lieving Mr. Lincoln an enemy. Fort Sumpter in Charleston Har- 
bor had fallen, and the American flag had been hauled down and 
the Confederate flag, representing the seven seceding States, 
raised in its place. Mr. Lincoln had called upon all the States, 
still claiming to be in the Union, to organize forces to invade and 
and crush the rebellious States. North Carolina was called upon 
to furnish her quota. Governor Ellis replied that he would not 
send one soldier to fight against the South, but immediately sent 
sent out a proclamation calling for 30,000 men to resist the in- 
vasion from the North. There were probably a dozen military 
companies in the State organized like the Guilford Grays. The 
Governor telegraphed our Captain asking him to take possession 
of Fort Macon on a little island opposite Beaufort, N.C. Our 

36 



Captain replied, "Under what flag?" The Governor replied, "The 
State flag of North Carolina." We couldn't go under the United 
States flag to capture a United States fort, for we expected to 
fight that flag; and we had not left the Union, so could not go 
under the Confederate flag, for that would be treason. So we 
lifted on high the Old State Flag with its old pine tree and 
the serpent coiled about its roots and the words, "Don't Tread on 
Me." Well I was reading that note, a very interesting note, with 
the boys standing around wanting to know "Why," I walked 
back to my room, packed my books and clothing, and turned to 
the door to meet Jno. McKnight, a student in the sophomore 
class. He was from my town and a member of the Guilford Grays. 
I said to him as he entered, "Well, John, what are you going to 
do " For he had received his orders also. He replied, "What- 
ever you do." I replied, "I am going." "Then" said he, "I am 
going too." We were about to start when Dr. Craven came into 
my room. He earnestly advised me not to go but stay and finish 
my college course. He said, "This war is not going to be child's 
play, it is going to be a most dreadful and bloody war. If you go 
every plan of your life will be changed, nothing will turn out as 
you wish." I replied that I thought about it as he did, I saw no 
necessity for a war, I regretted leaving College, but I belonged 
to a military company in times of peace and pleasure and safety, 
and I could not now refuse to stand by it in times of danger. 
McKnight and I were privates in our company and three years 
from that date he was killed at Bristow, as Lieutenant leading 
his company in a charge. We reached home at daybreak next 
morning, as the company, armed and uniformed, w^as about to 
take the train for Fort Macon in the Atlantic. We were received 
with a shout by the boys. We stayed over at our homes one day 
to get our uniforms and guns and make preparations for an un- 
known absence. It was so sudden, so strange, from peace and 
happiness with our people, to war and wounds and death. My 
family were all opposed to secession. My brother C. C. Cole, 
had battled against it as an editor of his paper, but no one har- 
bored a thought of fighting against the Southern States, and my 
brother raised a company and was elected its captain. He strongly 

37 



opposed my leaving college and entering the army at that time. 
It was a sad time for the old town that Sabbath day. The churches 
were full of weeping people. Four of the " Grays" had been 
delayed and did not go until two days after the company left — 
Lieut. Morehead, Lieut. Gilmer, Jno. McKnight and myself. 
Two years from that time, three of us were Colonels of regiments 
and the other was dead on the battlefield. 

Fort Macon was a United States fort situated on an island 
about three miles from the mainland and defending the town and 
harbor of Beaufort. It had about sixty cannon, ranging from 
field pieces to columbiads, and most of them had not been placed 
for service. The commander of this fort was Col. C. C. Tew, a 
graduate of a South Carolina Military School, and had been for 
years superintendent of a military school at Hillsboro, N. C. He 
was an excellent officer, and fell at Sharpsburg commanding the 
Second Regiment of North Carolina troops. In this fort were 
about six hundred young soldiers belonging to companies like the 
Guilford Grays. 

Here then was the beginning of a new career. I had left my 
peaceful home, my college duties, and was facing an unknown 
future as I walked the parapets as a sentinel, looking upon the 
gre^t Ocean out before me. I could see the ships of commerce 
sailing over the blue waters, and the warships of the enemy steam- 
ing up and down the turbulent billows, as if to say, "We will come 
down after you before long." I had read of wars and campaigns 
and conquests, of Alexander and Hannibal, and Ceasar, of Nap- 
oleon and Washington, of the Greek Phalanx, of the Roman Tenth 
Legion, of Hannibal's Cavalry, of Napoleon's old guard, and of 
Washington's patriots; but all that filled my mind, my heart, my 
admiration, my sentiments, my imagination; but we were now to 
have the reality. What will be our history? What will be the 
results, what will future generations think of us, when they turn 
the pages of the Nineteenth Century? The eyes of the ages are 
fixed upon us, the pen of the historian was ready to trace our every 
step and mark its approval or disapproval. Are the young men 
of the South equal to the "Ten Thousand," to those of Cannae, 
of Pharsalia, of Austerlitz or Yorktown? 

3S 



The boom of the heavy cannon and the drum beat at the rising 
sun each morning aroused us from our slumbers and, in five min- 
utes, the roll call, then the soldiers' breakfast, then the drills and 
preparing the fort for battle. Every night, before lying down to 
sleep, Sam Weir, our boy preacher, led the company in prayer, 
for the dangers of approaching battle will always make the sol- 
diers serious. 

Nearly two months I remained with my company learning 
and performing the duties of a soldier, when I received permission 
to return to college and get my diploma, as I have before stated. 
In the meantime the State had passed the ordinance of secession 
on the 20th of May, and soldiers, by thousands, were forming 
companies and rushing to the front to repel invasion. My brother, 
C. C. Cole, with a hundred men, was camped at Raleigh and as- 
signed to the 22d Infantry under a great soldier, J. Johnston 
Pettigrew. My brother Dr. B. L. Cole, as Captain of a company 
of cavalry 110 strong, was stationed at Kitrells Springs, north of 
Raleigh. I joined Captain Cole's company, but before reporting 
for duty was detailed to drill a company in Randolph County, 
commanded by Captain J. M. Odell. I was with this company 
about one month and became acquainted with a band of heroes 
who proved unsurpassed in bravery by any soldiers in the army of 
Northern Virginia. They became Company "M" in the 22nd regi- 
ment. During the time I was drilling this company, camping in 
and around a country school house in Randolph County on the 
banks of Deep River, we had much fun, for we were all young 
men. A laughable incident one night, gave us great amusement. 
There were two men in the company very different in their make- 
up, the one short and fat and strong, weighing about 200 pounds, 
the other tall and thin, weighing about 120. We had in the com- 
pany a famous fiddler with a fine fiddle. One of these men chal- 
lenged the other for a dance to see which could stay the longest 
time in the dance. The challenge was accepted; the officers and 
men sat on the benches and the floor, and the dancers took their 
places on the stage. The fiddler took his seat and tuned his fiddle. 
It was a hot night. Finally the word was given, the fiddle struck 
up, the dancers pitched in, and the battle was on. The thin man 

39 



with a wide brim straw hat, sailed around like a kite in the air, 
and the big man hit the floor like he was beating tan bark. Round 
and round they went, strength against skill, up and down, first 
on one foot and then on both, turning and whirling, dashing at 
each other and then running away, puffing and blowing, following 
the wild tune of the fiddle, mouths open, and arms swinging, and 
legs crossing, and feet stamping— and still the fiddle roared on. 
The audience laughed and yelled, first for the tall fellow and then 
for the fat one. The fiddle never stopped, and the big man was 
bathed in perspiration, and the tall man light, and airy, and swift, 
kept sailing. It was the most amusing exhibition of the kind I 
ever saw. Finally the fiddler's arm ceased to wag, and the bow 
forgot its tune, and the music went off in a wail and gave up the 
ghost, and the dancers, trembling and staggering, gave a last 
whirl and the contest was over. It had lasted an hour and the 
fiddler broke down, and it was a drawn battle between the men. 

This was July, 1861, and the great battle of Manassas had been 
fought, and as it was the first great battle, the country was as- 
tounded and realized that we were in the midst of war. Two of 
my classmates, Bob and Arch Walters, of the 18th Virginia In- 
fantry, were in that battle, just one month after our graduation. 
500,000 men were rushing from the North to invade the South 
under the orders of President Lincoln and his Congress. 300,000 
men from the mountains and plains from the South were rushing 
Northward to answer the call of President Davis and his Congress, 
to plant themselves on their borders to repel the invading hosts. 

I shall not try to follow the movements of the great armies, 
history will attend to that, but will only speak of incidents and 
personal matters too small for dignified history, merely now and 
then touching the edges of great events and great characters as 
I pass along through the days and years of this, the Third Decade 
of my life. I joined my brother's cavalry company at Kittrell's 
and was appointed Second Sergeant. We crossed over into Vir- 
ginia and took boat down Black Water, a very crooked river, into 
Chowan, which carried us back into North Carolina. This river 
carried us into Albemarle Sound, and, for two or three months, 
we sailed about the Sound, going up the various rivers and camping 

40 




MRS. MARY KING COLE, 20 



in several towns and, especially, near Edenton, a beautiful little 
city, and one of the oldest in the State. Finally we were ordered 
to New Berne, a town about 100 miles further south, and camped 
on the River Neuse for a while, and then on the Trent, the two 
rivers meeting just east of the town. In the mean time we had 
been armed with double barrel shot guns and one barrel pistols, 
and supplied with horses, and were pretty well drilled and consid- 
ered ourselves pretty good horsemen. Being young men, we 
were not unhappy, but had our fun and took life as it came to 
us, whether good or bad. Our Colonel, Spruill, was a genial, good 
natured politician, about fifty years old, not much of a soldier, 
and didn't stay with us long. Our Lieut. Colonel Robinson, was 
young, red headed, a West Pointer, an officer in the old army, and 
easily made up for the good nature of our Colonel. He was a 
strict disciplinarian, and, early one cold December morning we 
saw three of our adventurous soldiers, riding a wooden horse about 
ten feet high and one inch thick. They had left camp and gone 
over into town during the previous night without permission. But 
we had our fun in camp and visiting the town, calling on the beauti- 
ful girls, and New Berne was full of them, in feasting on fine 
oysters, and galloping over the drill grounds under command of 
our officers. 

In the meantime I had been made First Sergeant of my Com- 
pany, and, by hard study and attention to my duties, had become 
so proficient in Hardee's tactics that I was frequently ordered to 
drill the whole regiment on horseback; this was a great honor, 
especially as there were able officers, regimental and company, 
in the regiment. 



41 



CHAPTER V. 

The Battle of New Berne. 

I have now come to my first battle and I will give some parti- 
culars about it, not only because it is of historical importance, 
but because it is generally a matter of curiosity to know how one 
feels in his first battle, when he hears, for the first time, the boom 
of the enemy's cannon, the shriek of his shells, and the hiss of the 
minnie balls from the deadly rifle. The soldier knows that any 
of the bursting shells and flying balls will tear him to pieces if 
they strike him, and they are sent after him for that purpose. 
"Self preservation is the first law of nature," and the man that 
does not fear death on the battlefield is simply an animal and 
doesn't deserve any credit for standing his ground. Every man 
of sense will get out of danger, or protect himself from destruc- 
tion, unless duty, manhood and pride, call upon him to face death 
to accomplish a great purpose. 

General Burnside, commander of the Union Army, had sailed 
along the coast, and, with his fleet and army, had fought the battle 
of Roanoke Island, in Albemarle Sound, and killed or captured 
3,000 or 4,000 Southern troops, and, with 15,000 men and a strong 
fleet of fifty-five ships, was coming up Pamlico Sound to attack 
New Berne. If he should capture this town, he would have under 
his control both Sounds and all important navigable rivers and 
harbors in the State except Cape Fear River, and the town of 
Wilmington; hence, New Berne was an important point for both 
armies. 

At midnight on the 13th of March, 1862, while all were asleep 
in the camp of the Second Cavalry, except the shivering sentinels 
at their posts, while the winds were blowing cold from the North, 
and the rain was pouring down from the clouds, suddenly the 
gallop of a horse is heard, and soon the bugle sounds, "Boots and 
Saddles," and the voices of the officers are heard shouting, "Fall 
in! Fall in!" The alarm is given, Burnside is coming up the 
River from the Sound; the regiment is formed and is ordered to 
the breastworks, five miles from the camp down the river. Then 
Capt. Cole's Company "F" is selected to go a mile beyond the 

42 



breastworks near the landing place of the enemy. The rain is 
still pouring down, and darkness covering the earth, and 15,000 
enemies are landing w T ith cannon, rifles and cavalry, about 200 or 
300 yards from our company. We could hear the voices of the 
enemy and the ringing of their rifles as they loaded them and the 
buzzing of the multitude. These 15,000 men didn't come a thou- 
sand miles with cannon and rifles to hunt birds, or wild turkeys, 
or deer, or bear, but they were after us, and we could easily hear 
their rifles as they loaded with the minnie balls, and we could see 
their ships in the river, and their great shells like lamp posts, 
w r ere crashing through the woods and screaming over our heads. 
Was this a pleasant situation? Consider the surroundings, the 
conditions; what do you think? My brother, B. L. Cole, was a 
Captain of my Company and ordered me to take seven men and 
ride in a parallel line to the enemy, and station one man every 
seventy-five yards, and, if I heard firing in the direction where I 
left the company, I was to come back immediately. I had sta- 
tioned about four of my men and was riding on to station the others 
when, suddenly, bang, bang, bang, bang, went the rifles, and I 
commanded, "Right about, gallop!" And as our horses leaped 
into the road a volley from the advancing enemy was fired into 
us. I found my brother sitting on his horse facing the enemy, 
and firing his six shooter into their ranks, about seventy-five yards 
away. I saw the enemy charging up the road and I said to Capt. 
Cole, "I don't see any use staying here," and it seemed to strike 
him the same way after I called his attention to it, as we couldn't 
fight the whole Yankee army, and he commanded "Company, 
Forward, Gallop," ancj w T e rode rapidly through our breastworks 
and reported to General Branch the enemy advancing. He replied, 
"Very well." Our line stretched along the river southward about 
a mile, with a slight breastwork a part of the way. We had six 
infantry and one cavalry regiments, some militia companies, and 
several batteries and one fort on the river, in all about 4,000 men. 
The commanders of these regiments were Col. Campbell 7th, Col. 
Vance 26th, Major Gilmer 27th, Col. Avery 33rd, Col. Sinclair 
35th, Col. Lee 37th, Col. Spruill 2nd Cavalry, and Col. Clark the 
Militia. The Commander of this little army was Brig. Gen. L. 

43 



O'B. Branch, formerly United States Congressman from the Ral- 
eigh district. He was a fine looking man, and fine soldier, and 
gallant gentleman, and, after distinguishing himself in many bat- 
tles, was killed at Sharpsburg in that bloody fight, driving Burn- 
side before him, thereby getting revenge for New Berne. The 
enemy advanced with two brigades front and one brigade in sup- 
port, commanded by three fine officers under Gen. Burnside, 
Generals Parks, Reno and Foster. The enemy advanced and 
attacked our lines almost its whole length, and the battle was 
fiercely fought for four hours. There were not a hundred men in 
our whole command who had ever heard the sound of a bullet or 
scream of a shell, but all stood their ground and poured volley 
after volley into the charging ranks of the Yankees, like veterans, 
as they afterwards became. The Second Cavalry had been dis- 
mounted and scattered along the line where most needed. We 
had left our horses in the rear under guard of our weakest men 
and, with our double barrel shot guns, pistols, and sabres marched 
to the front. All at once it seemed that a hundred or a thousand 
bullets whistled and sung about our heads, and, as I was First 
Sergeant of our Company and was in front and leading, it didn't 
take me half a second to jump behind a great oak tree that seemed 
to be there for some good purpose. I was very quick, as usual, 
and beat my Captain just a second; that was the first instinct of 
self-preservation, but we recovered and marched on to "face the 
music." I saw Vance's regiment marching in line of battle pale 
but determined. The memory of those bullets and cannon balls 
and cheers of the charging Yankees made such an impression on 
me in this my first battle that I seem to hear them yet. The 
fighting now was fierce, and the roar of the cannon and continued 
roll of musketry was fearful, and, to me, it was inspiring. I cried 
out in ecstasy, u O, you are not at Roanoke Island now!" I never 
dreamed of being defeated, though we were outnumbered three 
to one. I left my pocket book, watch, and other belongings back 
in the camp, when I went out to " whip the Yankees," but, alas, 
I had no time to return for them after the battle. Finally, the 
militia broke and retreated, and the enemy charged over the works, 
but Col. Avery with the 33rd regiment charged and met them 

44 



hand to hand and drove them back. He was soon overpowered 
and captured and our lines were broken and our wings flanked. 
I saw the militia leaving the field in disorder, and I went among 
them and asked why they were retreating, and they answered 
"Our officers left us and we are following/' The battle was lost, 
the enemy was nearer the two bridges by which we had to escape 
or be captured, than the two wings of our army, and the command 
was given for every man to cross the bridge as soon as possible. 
Then occurred a great race, 4,000 men making for the river three 
miles away and 10,000 men after them. When my Captain and 
I reached the place where we left our horses, I discovered that 
some one, in a hurry to get away, had taken my horse and I was 
at the mercy of my enemies, unless I took an old raw boned horse 
left by some one in the thicket. My Captain told me to take him, 
but I refused. About that time my red-headed Lieut. Col. came 
galloping by looking pale and scared, and I shouted to him that 
my horse was gone and asked him if I must take that old horse 
left behind. He replied, "Yes, for God's sake take him and get 
away from here?" He was worse scared than I was, but I would 
have mounted an elephant if he had presented himself just then. 
I mounted and found the stirrups six inches too long, and I flew 
out of the woods by the side of my Captain. Galloping along, I 
overtook my Colonel, whose horse was also taking him rapidly 
from the field. I was mad, because I was whipped, and nearly 
starved, and covered with mud, and had lost my horse, so, for- 
getting myself, I rode up to my Colonel and said, "Colonel listen to 
the guns of Colonel Vance, he is fighting like a man!" Which was 
a great piece of impudence from me, a sergeant, to his Colonel who 
was running, and he replied, "Yes, and here we are running, halt!" 
But he didn't halt, and I didn't see how I could stop the whole 
Yankee army, so I didn't halt. I soon came to where Gen. Branch, 
our commanding general, was sitting on his horse, surrounded by 
his staff and other officers. He ordered me to go back through 
the woods towards the advancing enemy arid find and bring out 
two companies of cavalry who had not been ordered to retreat, 
and didn't know that we were getting away. This looked worse 
than my Colonel's order to "halt," for it seemed like charging 






45 



the whole army of the enemy. I immediately turned and, putting 
spurs to the old bones that I was riding, galloped through the 
woods and found the two companies about half a mile away and, 
giving the General's orders, we flew back to the bridge without 
trying to keep the step. The cannon balls were rolling across 
the field as we crossed the river. On the other side of the bridge, 
I found my horse and immediately swapped with the man on him, 
the first and last time I ever swapped horses. Thirty miles west 
of New Berne was the little town of Kinston, and our army, 
"horse, foot and dragoon," all made for its shelter. It was reported 
that the enemy had crossed over to New Berne and was in hot 
pursuit of us. Major Woodfin tried to rally the second cavalry 
to meet the enemy to cover the retreat; but the men were de- 
moralized and frightened and rode all round him and continued 
their flight. As my Company galloped up I saw what Major 
Woodfin was trying to do, and, immediately turning out of the 
road, I commanded the Company to "fall out and form on me," 
and the Captain gave the same order immediately afterwards, and 
we covered the retreat from there to Kinston, where we arrived 
about midnight — mad, wet, hungry, muddy, whipped. We had 
had nothing to eat for thirt}^ hours, had been fighting, riding and 
running since midnight, twenty four hours past, and this was my 
first battle and the end of it. 

Looking back and recalling my feelings, sensations, and emo- 
tions, throughout that day, I cannot say, honestly, that I felt 
much fear during the whole time. A sense of duty, a sense of 
manhood, a feeling that I was equal to any Yankee and all the 
influences of my life and family made me insensible to any abject 
fear, while I realized the danger and felt a sudden sinking of the 
heart as bullets hissed and shells screamed around me. Don't 
think those men that fled before those Yankees were not true 
soldiers. They were inexperienced; it was their first battle, and 
some of them had sorry commanders, but they proved on many 
battlefields afterwards that they were as brave and true as Nap- 
oleon's Old Guard. Follow the fate of those officers. Gen. Branch 
with the same brigade, after many heroic fights, fell at Sharpsburg 
driving the same Burnside before him. Col. Campbell and Col. 

46 



Lee died on the field at Richmond; Col. Vance, fighting like a 
paladin at Malvern Hill and elsewhere was elected Governor of 
his State, and was the grandest of all the w T ar governors of the 
South. He was elected Governor three times then three times 
United States Senator. Major Gilmer, commanding the 27th 
regiment was promoted to be Colonel and was badly wounded in 
battle, became Adjutant General of the State and a distinguished 
judge after the war. Lieut. Col. Burgynne, the Boy Colonel, 21 
years old, immortalized himself at the head of his regiment at 
Gettysburg, and died on the field of battle with the Stars and 
Bars wrapped around him, which he was carrying when he fell. 
Major R. F. Hoke of the 33rd became a Major General at the 
age of 26, and captured an army of the enemy when he stormed 
the town of Plymouth. Sergeant Roberts of the Second Cavalry 
became a Brigadier General and made the last charge at Appo- 
matox. Many subordinate and noncommissioned officers and pri- 
vate soldiers rose to be distinguished field officers. Col. Vance 
in his official report said his men acted with great bravery, only 
one of them "remembered that he had legs." This was the intro- 
duction of the four years fighting, and you can compare my life 
in college and my experience at New Berne, and decide whether 
or not you will vote for the next war. 






47 



CHAPTER VI. 

Gillet's House and Richmond. 

This great, terrific, and sanguinary war between the Southern 
and Northern States of the American Union lasted four years in 
the Third Decade of my life. You can read about its causes and 
battles and campaigns in the thousand histories and stories which 
tell the tale, truthfully or otherwise. My modest sketches will 
only include, generally, incidents, unknown and too small for the 
pen of the historian. 

After the battle of New Berne, the Second Cavalry was kept 
busy scouting and raiding, some times pursuing Yankee parties 
and sometimes running from the enemy, sometimes sleeping on 
the ground, holding our horses by the bridle while sleeping, some- 
times riding day and night, in rain and storm, always on duty. 

Once the enemy, three or four hundred strong, under a German 
Baron, drove our pickets and some companies about ten miles, 
and Col. Robinson took two hundred of the cavalry, my company 
among them, and pursued them to teach them a lesson to stay on 
their side. At midnight when the moon was shining brightly, we 
found them in an enclosure of rail fences in and around a large 
two story house. At a signal from the gun of our foremost picket, 
Col. Robinson shouted " Charge!" We galloped up the road and 
up the cross lanes and, firing our shot guns, surrounded the house, 
yelling enough to scare the sleeping enemy. But with every 
advantage of position and numbers, they shot our men from their 
horses and among them our commander and captured him. I 
rushed my horse against the fence and leaped over it calling on 
my company to follow me. When within a few yards of the house 
and the high fence surrounding it, I looked around for my support 
and saw all of them and those that followed the Colonel, on the 
other side of the house, flying down the road and over the fields. 
Col. Robinson, Capt. Turner and others had fallen. Being alone, 
without a soldier near me, and the bullets whistling suggestively 
I turned my horse toward the nearest piece of woods and, with 
pistol still in hand leaped a ditch and landed on top of a fence and 
went down among briars, weeds, vines and rails, and then turned 

48 



a somersault over my horses head to get quickly out of reach of a 
hundred flying, whistling bullets. I didn't think I deserved much 
credit in that fight, but was highly complimented by the men and 
the newspapers. 

Some time after this I received a furlough on account of sick- 
ness brought on by hard campaigning and exposure. While 
passing through Raleigh on my way home, I visited two of my 
old comrades of the cavalry, who were now Captain and Lieut- 
enant in the 54th regiment, then just organized and stationed at 
the capital. They had been the great lovers of fun in our company, 
and were great musicians with the violin. They were excellent 
gentlemen — Captain Wm. T. Watlington and Lieutenant R. H. 
Watlington. Col. Jno. Wimbash was the colonel of this regiment 
and, offered me the Adjutancy, which I accepted and reported 
several days before my furlough expired. I was a member of the 
Second Cavalry about one year, and though the service was hard 
and varied, I enjoyed the time with the officers and men, and the 
wild raids and scouting that reminded me of revolutionary stories. 
From this time to the close of the war I was to be in the Infantry, 
either as a staff officer or field officer. In the cavalry I was, of 
course, always on horseback, which suited my taste better than 
walking with the infantry. But as Staff and Field Officer, I still 
had to be on horseback to perform my duties. The 54th regiment 
was recently organized and had a fine body of men and officers. 
Col. Wimbish was Colonel, Capt. McDowell was elected Lieut. 
Colonel, and Capt. Murchison was elected Major. I was Adjutant 
of this regiment for about six months in North Carolina and Vir- 
ginia. In the Regimental Histories of North Carolina, Lieut. 
Williams, who wrote the history of the 54th regiment, made an 
unaccountable mistake by stating that in the organization, Col. 
McDowell was the first Colonel, and Lieut. McDaniel the first 
Adjutant. Col. Wimbish was the first Colonel, and resigned after 
about six months service, and I was the first Adjutant for some- 
thing over that time, until I had myself transferred to the 22nd 
regiment at the request of my brother, who had been its commander 
in several battles. After serving on the Neuse River near Kinston 
for several months, a part of which time Col. Wimbish was acting 

49 



Brig. General of a district, and I was acting Adjutant General, 
the 54th regiment was sent to Richmond to join General Lee's 
army. While serving around Richmond I visited the capitol and 
saw Congress in session, and was interested in the proceedings, 
and the prominent and great men running the government. I 
saw Alexander Stephens from Georgia presiding over the Senate 
as Vice-President. In appearance he was insignificant, tall, bony, 
with small head, hair coming over his forehead like the bangs of 
a girl. His face was seamed with age and wrinkles and his eyes 
blazed back in his head, but when I saw him on another occasion 
making an address in the open air at Greensboro, as he was passing 
through, I realized the truth of what I had heard concerning him, 
that he was a great statesman and a fiery orator of marvelous 
ability. I heard the great secessionist and "Fireeater," William 
L. Yancy, as he denounced President Davis, in the Senate, as a 
tyrant, and exclaimed, "If I must have a tyrant to rule over me, 
I will take President Lincoln instead of Jefferson Davis.' ' It was 
while making one of his speeches against Mr. Davis in the Senate 
that a personal encounter occurred between him and Sen. Ben 
Hill of Georgia. Senator Yancy was denouncing President Davis, 
and advocating his removal and the appointment of a dictator, 
when Senator Hill, who had been an antagonist of the Senate r 
from Alabama in their secession views, arose and said that the 
Senator from Alabama was slandering the President, and had al- 
ways been a revolutionist; nothing would satisfy him until he 
overturned the United States government in the Southern States > 
and now he was trying to overturn the Confederate government. 
Senator Yancy replied that the Senator from Georgia was making 
statements that had been refuted time and again, but he was not 
to be blamed for that, as he was cast in a certain mold and could 
not change. Senator Hill was so incensed that he hurled a large 
ink stand with great force, which struck Mr. Yancy on the shoul- 
der, then on his face, and glanced off and was shattered against 
the window sill. Mr. Yancy never turned his head as the blood 
gushed from his face, but sternly said, "It is the prerogative of 
cowards to strike from the rear!" Mr. Hill then rushed upon him 
and they grappled in a fearful conflict. They were separated by 

50 






Col. Fitzhugh, the Sergeant -at -Arms. I saw, in a newspaper after 
the war, an account of this encounter in the Confederate Senate, 
and fifteen years afterwards, I was telling it to several men at a 
hotel in Sherman, Texas, when one of the men rose and said "that 
what I had related was true, for he witnessed the fight and se- 
parated the combatants. He was Col. Fitzhugh, the Sergeant-at- 
Arms. He said the fight took place in secret session of the Senate 
and the Senators were pledged to secrecy. Senator Yancy died 
a few weeks later. 

I met in Richmond, Dr. Isaac N. Cole, one of my brothers, 
whom I had never seen but once, and that ten years before this 
meeting. It was a happy greeting we both gave. He was raised 
in Virginia and I in North Carolina. We were separated by the 
death of my father before I could recollect him. 

Richmond on the James was a busy city during these days, 
for the great armies of the South were fighting around her borders, 
and tens of thousands of soldiers were marching through to meet 
the hundreds of thousands from the North. Washington and 
Richmond were about a hundred miles apart, and a hundred 
thousand Southern soldiers were trying to go to Washington, and 
two hundred thousand Northern soldiers were trying to go to 
Richmond. And for four years they tried to make that distance; 
first by one road and then by another, by water and by land; by 
mountain and by valley; and they both found "Jordan a hard 
road to travel," an average of 25 miles a year. 

Col. Wimbish of the 54th regiment, an excellent gentleman, 
finally resigned his command, and Lieut. Col. McDowell was pro- 
moted to the command of the regiment. He was a fine officer, a 
brave soldier, and a companionable and polished gentleman. I 
asked him to select another man for his Adjutant if he preferred 
any to me, as he had a right to his own staff. He answered me 
that he would be glad if I would continue to be Adjutant of the 
regiment, that he preferred no one to me. 

As Col. McDowell and I were riding at the head of the regi- 
ment one day, going into Richmond from our camp, out on Brook 
Turnpike, about six miles from the city, we passed a fine residence 
and several pretty girls standing at the fence viewing the marching 

51 



regiment. I was looking at a beautiful young lady and she was 
looking at me, and I saw her raise her hand above her head with 
a pretty boquet in it. I was a modest young man and was afraid 
the soldiers would laugh at me if I failed to get the boquet, and I 
didn't go after it ; but called Col. McDowell's attention to it. He was 
a married man and about 35 years old but he was gallant, and 
wheeling his horse, he galloped around the head of the column, 
and the boquet was given to him. I felt mortified, and learned 
then the truth of an old saying "Faint heart never won fair lady." 

I heard President Davis on one occasion, as he was passing 
through North Carolina. His speech was strong and forceful. He 
showed great earnestness in his language and gestures when he 
declared that our enemies "Were the most atrocious that ever 
waged war on a free people." 

While traveling in western North Carolina my train met one 
coming east of the mountains. I learned that Gen. John H. 
Morgan was on the western train, having recently escaped from 
captivity in the Ohio penitentiary. I visited him in his car and 
had an interesting talk with him. He spoke of his imprisonment 
and especially enjoyed the way he deceived and "fooled" the old 
union women in East Tennessee, as he was escaping through that 
part of the State. He laughed very heartily as he recalled many 
incidents. He was a fine looking man, young, strong and in fine 
condition. He was on his way to Richmond to report to the 
government. He was betrayed about a year after this, it is said, 
by one of those east Tennessee women while in command of his 
cavalry brigade and killed while attempting to make his escape. 
He was one of the prominent heroes of the war. Forty-eight years 
after I met General Morgan, I attended a reunion of Confederates 
at Little Rock, and met General Basil Duke, Morgan's second in 
command, who succeeded to the command of the brigade and 
fought with it to the end of the war. I was surprised to see a 
small, active man apparently not over 50 years of age. I told 
him his appearance was not equal to his reputation, as he was 
small of stature but his reputation was large. He was a worthy 
successor to General Morgan as a commander and a fighter. 

52 






One day in October, 1862, I received an application from my 
brother, Major C. C. Cole, in command of the 22nd North Carolina 
Regiment, to be presented to the war department in Richmond, 
to have me transferred to the 22nd regiment as Adjutant. I had 
been Adjutant of the 54th regiment about six months and liked 
Col. McDowell and the other officers so well that I was loathe to 
leave the regiment, but my brother had been in so many terrible 
battles, that he urged me to join him, as we were liable at any 
time to be killed, and we ought to be with each other as much as 
possible. So I carried the application, made out by him, to Major 
General G. W. Smith, then in command around Richmond, and 
his Adjutant General readily signed it and I went to the War 
Department, and the transfer was made by Assistant Secretary 
of War, Dr. Bledsoe, in five minutes. Porcher Miles, a disting- 
uished congressman from South Carolina, introduced me to the 
proper officials, and was very kind and polite, as all gentlemen 
are. I asked General Smith's Adjutant General to give me a pass 
out of the city to go to my home in North Carolina, 200 miles 
away to get ready for the winter campaign. Nobody could leave 
the city without a pass. He said he could not give me the pass 
as I did not now belong to his department. The 22nd regiment 
was near the Potomac on the Ohio railroad, north of Winchester, 
200 miles from Richmond, in the opposite direction from my home 
in North Carolina. I replied to him that I could not get permis- 
sion from my new command, for I had not yet reported to my 
regiment. He laughed and said "We can't give it, and they can't 
give it, therefore I would go ahead without it." I wrote to my 
brother that I would join him by the 5th of November. I took 
the cars for Raleigh, N. C, then to Greensboro, and spent two 
weeks preparing for a hard winter in a northern climate, and re- 
turned to Richmond. I mounted my gray horse — one of the 
finest I ever saw — and rode most of the way alone, over rivers, 
mountains and through Longstreet's Corps at Culpepper Court 
House, and arrived at the camp of the 22nd regiment about mid- 
day of the 6th of November, and found the regiment on picket 
duty in front of the Yankee troops in the woods. I traveled six 
hundred miles and stayed at home two weeks and joined my 

53 



regiment just twelve hours behind time. I had not seen my bro- 
ther for nearly a year and a half and he had led his regiment in 
many terrible battles and proved himself a great soldier and hero. 
He had been complimented after every battle by his generals, 
Jackson, Hill and Pender, in their official reports. He met me 
with a happy smile, and "Is this the 5th of November?" He had 
watched the days and hours for my arrival. Our regiment be- 
longed to Pender's N. C. Brigade of A. P. Hill's Division of Jack- 
son's corps of Lee's army of Northern Virginia. 

Two or three weeks after I joined my regiment, we received 
marching orders and passed through Winchester, along the valley, 
to New Market, across the Shenandoah River on to Fredericks- 
burg — a march of about two hundred miles that took two weeks 
to make. We would march fifty minutes and rest ten. I became 
acquainted with General Hill as we rode together with my brother 
at the head of our regiment. He had become a famous general 
in many of the bloody battles and commanded a division of 12,000 
men. He was not only a great general, but he was a genial, affable 
gentleman. He knew General Burnside very well, had served in 
the old army together, and, laughingly said, he ought to know 
hirft, for Burnside owed him $8,000.00. We joined Longstreet 
and Stuart and General Lee a few days before the battle of Fred- 
ericksburg, and I had the pleasure of seeing General Jackson as 
he led our corps into battle, and General Lee as he and Long- 
street rode past our lines drawn up i& battle array on the 12th 
of November, the day before the battle. 




54 



CHAPTER VII. 

Jerusalem and Fredertcksburg. 

I have now brought the two great armies face to face on the 
banks of the Rappahannock at Fredericksburg — the army of the 
North 150,000 strong, and the army of the South 80,000. You 
may stand by the side of Burnside on Stafford Heights on the 
north of the river and gaze on the Southern army under Lee and 
Longstreet and Jackson, or you may take your place by the great 
figure of Lee on the hills overlooking the valley on the south side 
of the Rappahannock, and see the marching thousands of Northern 
soldiers taking their places for the great contest under Burnside, 
Hooker, Sumner, Meade, Hancock and Franklin. It is the 13th 
of December, 1862, and the snow and frost covered the ground 
like white clouds, and the fog rested on the plain before the rising 
of the sun. 

As Christmas is in the minds and hearts of the soldiers and is 
approaching so fast to connect us with our loved ones at home, I 
will give you a picture of Christmas in peace and in war, and let 
you meditate on the contrast. 

Listen! The night was dark, the lights were extinguished in 
the city, the patriots were weary with labour and anxiety and had 
gone to rest; the mothers were dreaming of their loved ones far 
away on the battlefields of their struggling country. Suddenly 
a cry is heard! What is it? Listen! it comes from the watchman 
walking his beat, "Twelve o'clock, all is well and Cornwallis is 
taken!" Instantly 10,000 lights flash out from 10,000 homes in 
the capital city of the new republic; 10,000 voices shout from street 
to street, from hill top to hill top, until the very heavens seem to 
echo the glad tidings of liberty, "Cornwallis is taken ! Cornwallis is 
taken!" The liberty bell, swinging out from the lofty dome of 
the capitol, adds its ringing cheer to the watchman's cry, and the 
old sexton falls dead with joy as he rings out the joyful news. 
What is the cause of this great tumult? What has happened to 
fill the hearts with joy and arouse the wild enthusiasm of the 
people? Look away down south, don't you see the smoke of battle 
floating over Yorktown? Don't you hear the roar of Washing- 

55 



ton's guns? Don't you see LaFayette and Hamilton storming the 
forts of the enemy? Don't you hear the groans of the British 
Lion, and the triumphant scream of the American Eagle? Don't 
you see the flag of the enemy coming down and "The Stars and 
Stripes" proudly floating over the victorious battlefield? See the 
long column of men, thousands upon thousands, brave as all Brit- 
ish soldiers are, marching to lay at the feet of Washington their 
conquered arms. Surely the cry of the sentinel from the watch 
tower of the capitol, "Cornwallis is taken, Cornwallis is taken, all 
is well," was enough to fill the hearts of all the patriots with joy! 
Now come with me and let us roll back the ages; let us cross 
over the wide blue waters of the Atlantic, where no ship has ever 
sailed, upon whose billows no mortal eyes, but those of a wild 
mysterious savage race, had ever gazed; where the great monsters 
of the mighty deep had ruled and fought amidst the storms and 
the floods and the hurricanes; let us travel back to that far away 
country in the East to that holy land with its mountains and val- 
leys and lakes and rivers as they were nearly twenty centuries 
ago. Look around you, what do you see? The skies above are 
as blue as they are in our distant land; the clouds with their white 
crests and silver linings float serenely, casting their cooling shad- 
ows over the shepherds fold; in the distance the angry Jordan, 
flooded with the rains from the North, pours its waters into the 
Dead Sea; to the north we behold a beautiful city with temples, 
palaces, monuments, the homes of kings, and priests, and warriors, 
and judges, and prophets, and holy men and women — the City 
of David, the holy and beautiful, the sacred city — Jerusalem. As 
we look upon that city bathing its feet in the running brooks and 
murmuring rivulets, and reclining upon the verdant beds of the 
blue mountains, we recall the scenes and events along the path- 
way of history of a thousand years. We see David as he meets 
Goliath on the battlefield, as he leads his army to victory, as he 
grapples with the lion, as he plays with the harp, and sings his 
sweet songs. We wonder at the great wisdom of Solomon and 
watch his great temple as it rises, year by year, in its splendour, 
until it is a wonder of the whole earth. We think of Samson, the 
strong man, and the thousand enemies he slew with his strange 

56 



and wonderful weapon, and the three thousand foxes whose tails 
he tied together and turned loose on his enemies. And we think 
of Elijah, that great Prophet, whose death was so wonderful, if 
he ever died, as he mounted in his chariot of fire behind the steeds 
of lightning, and throwing his cloak to his fellow prophet, rose 
into the skies and disappeared from the earth. Ah, yes, these 
were wonderful things for you and me to think about ; but what do 
I see coming down that dusty road? A man leading a slow, patient 
donkey, and on that donkey a woman ! O what a woman ! Young, 
only fifteen years old, beautiful, pure, with the peace of heaven 
irradiating her countenance. Who is she? Where is she going? 
My heart b^ats with joy as I look upon her divine face. Mary, 
the Holy Virgin, beautiful name, beautiful woman, the greatest 
among the daughters of men. We will follow them. They arrive 
at the city of Bethlehem; they must find quarters for the night. 
They go to this hotel and that, but no accommodation; they go 
to this house and that, no accommodation; but the beautiful 
woman must find shelter somewhere. Yes, they will enter here 
among the sheep, the goats, the oxen, the beasts of the field; and 
here, in a manger, here in this lowly place, here, with no one in 
all the world to care for her except the man Joseph, her betrothed 
husband, she gives to mankind the Savior of the world, the Lord, 
the King, the Child Jesus. Now r I hear the songs of the angels; 
now I see the star of Bethlehem as it rises in the East and moves to 
the West and hovers over the cradle in the manger ; now I see the 
Wise Men following the star and coming to worship the Holy 
Child. But what sound is that I hear? A cry from the sentinel 
on the watch tower of the city? A proclamation from the king 
granting liberty to the people ? A shout of victory over the enemy 
on the battlefield? No, no, not these; greater than these; greater 
than the noblest words of all the ages; greater than "Cornwallis is 
taken"; greater than Napoleon's Soldiers! forty centuries look down 
upon you from yonder Pyramids, " greater than Nelson at Tra- 
falgar when he flung to the breeze his banner, "England expects 
every man to do his duty;" greater than the Old Guards' defiant 
cry at Waterloo," The Guard dies but never surrenders;" the cry 
rises upon the air and comes floating down the centuries, filling 

57 



the pure hearts of the children of men, u Glory to God in the highest, 
peace on earth, good will to men." The day of the birth of the Savior, 
the day when the star rose in the east, the day when the Wise 
Men followed the star to the cradle in the manger and worshipped 
the child of Mary; that day has been the great day of the christian 
world for more than 1900 years. Over wrecks of empires, over 
earthquakes and tornadoes, over disasters and revolutions 
the cry has followed the generations, "Glory to God in the highest, 
peace on earth, good will to men." And today as another anni- 
versary, another Christmas approaches, we are gathering over the 
earth in our homes, in the temples of worship to rejoice and cele- 
brate that great happy day, when Mary gave to the world the 
child Jesus in that far away land. Christmas is a day of memory, 
a day of love, a day of happiness. The face is bright, the smile 
is sweet, the eyes sparkle, charity abounds, beautiful gifts pass to 
loving hands, and music is heard in the homes, the Christmas tree 
is loaded with evidences of love, and happy greetings come from 
joyous hearts, as if to say, "Don't you hear the voice of the rolling 
years crying, "Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth, good 
will to men!" 

But how shall I draw another picture for you to gaze upon, 
a picture not all of peace and love and joy; a picture of darkness, 
of storms, of strife, of anger, of black clouds, where thunder bolts 
grapple with thunder bolts in the sky, and hissing lightning cuts 
the clouds to pieces, and sends destruction over the earth? Listen! 
I hear the tramp of marching battalions ; I hear the noise of heavy 
squadrons; I hear the rumblings of artillery; I hear the bugle blast 
of war; I see a long line of men, dressed in gray, with muskets, 
and rifles, and bayonets, and swords, marching up the valley of 
Virginia through Winchester, to New Market, over the Shenan- 
doah, across the Blue Ridge, across Massanutton, their bleeding, 
freezing barefeet winding back and forth, around and around, in 
the snow, on the ice, until they reached the crest and looked back 
upon 30,000 warriors, keeping step to the band sounding the 
charge among the pines and oaks of frowning mountains. They 
are brave men. They are laughing and joking, and having fun. 
What do they care for ice and snow and wind and storm? They 

58 



have met the enemy on many battle fields; they have grappled 
with death on many plains ; they have endured hunger many days ; 
their bed is on the cold, hard ground, and they cover with the 
falling snow from the clouds; but they are suffering and fighting 
for their homes and their country. "Forward! Forward!" We 
had been marching southward towards our homes, and Christmas, 
with all its memories and joys, was coming, day by day, nearer to 
us, and our hearts yearned for peace and home as in the years 
gone by. But many of the brave men would never see their homes 
again. It was in cold December, of the year 1862, and the winds 
were howling down the valley of the Rappahannock, and 150,000 
enemies were camped on the north bank of the river, planning 
our destruction. We were camped in the woods on the hills over- 
looking Fredericksburg. We had no fear about the results of the 
coming battle. But we knew that many would die and there 
would be no happy Christmas for them, nor for their loved ones 
in their distant homes in the southland. We had 80,000 under 
Lee and his generals, and what man and what army of 150,000 
could whip Robert E. Lee and his army? 

On December 12th, 80,000 men dressed in gray were standing 
in line of battle, stretching from the Rappahannock above the 
town round the curved hills, encircling the valley to Hamilton's 
Crossing, forming a great bow, four miles long, while the enemy 
was crossing the river under the fire of a hundred and fifty guns 
from Stafford Heights, and arranging their lines like a strong cord 
to this great bow. The enemy's cannons were destroying the old 
town, and men, women and children were fleeing from their homes. 
We could see the marching brigades and divisions crossing the 
river, taking their places, planting their batteries, and the smoke 
from the bursting shells in the air. The valley in front of Jackson 
was a level plain nearly a mile wide, and more than a hundred 
thousand warriors were standing on the borders of this plain. Two 
horsemen rode along our lines in the edge of the wood, the gray 
haired one riding in front, looking like the fate of an empire rested 
on his shoulders, the other, with long black beard, and twinkling 
eyes, as if he expected to have much fun during the day. They 
were Lee and Longstreet. Soon we saw several officers ride out 

59 



in front of our line and stand on a slight elevation and gaze upon 
the movements of the enemy. A horseman, away out in the valley, 
was riding to and fro, and we could not decide whether he was a 
friend or an enemy, finally he rode towards the group on the hill, 
and a horseman detached himself from the group and shouted 
"Stuart, come this way!" These men were Lee, and Longstreet, 
and Jackson, and Hill, and Hood, and Stuart and Pender. In 
all the history of the ages, what place and time ever witnessed 
the assembly of seven greater warriors under such a momentous 
occasion. Longstreet, from Marie's Heights, commanded our 
left wing; Jackson commanded the right wing; A. P. Hill and Hood 
were in the center, and Stuart with his cavalry, was on the right 
of Jackson. And there, at daybreak on the 13th of December, 
1862, 230,000 Americans were about to grapple with each other 
in deadly battle in the valley of the Rappahannock. There were 
no charity and love and good will among these hearts towards 
each other. The music of the Star Spangled Banner reverberated 
over the hills across the river, and was answered by the martial 
strains of "Dixie" along the ridges on the south. The sun slowly 
rises, the thick fog floats away, and Franklin's grand division of 
55,000 veterans led by Meade, moved with measured step upon 
A. P. Hill, of Jackson's corps. A hundred cannons open their 
discordant mouths, and shells, and solid balls, and shrapnel, and 
grape shot, make hideous music in the air, and the musketry opens 
and lightning flashes from thousands of guns. Forward rushed 
the hosts of the north, closer and closer, now they fight hand to 
hand. Stand your ground, ye men of the south! The music of 
victory is sweet, the moan of defeat is bitter! But on they come, 
struggling and falling before the storm of death and slaughter of 
Stuart's "Horse Artillery" and Confederate guns. Lane and 
Archer first meet the massive onset, but stagger, waver, break, 
and fly. The triumphant enemy pursue over the railroad, over 
the plain into the wood, they rush to their death. Early comes 
sweeping down on the right, Hoke dashed into the advancing 
columns, Gregg and Thomas rushed upon them in fron 1 , Lane 
and Archer re-form and madly fall upon them again, Pender closes 
in on the left, charging in person at the head of his staff. Now the 

60 



furies are at work. Death rides upon every shrieking shell. The 
hillside is clothed with bloody relics of slaughter. Bloody bayonets 
and flashing sabers clash and ring amidst the carnival of death 
and terror. The brave Gregg has fallen to rise no more. Our 
own Pender, bloody and exhausted, has been carried from the 
field. Hundreds are falling right and left, bloody martyrs to 
pride, principle, and patriotism. Which side yields? Which gives 
way? Neither. Hours fly by, the sun begins to turn away from 
the carnage and prepares to build "camp fires in the west." Still 
Stafford Heights and Marie's Hill shake their hoary side, and deep 
thunder peals from their rocky caverns. For three terrible hours, 
Jackson has held the enemy in his fearful embrace, and now the 
fire begins to recede, the blue lines are broken, the warriors from 
the North fly before the Gray soldiers of the South, and five thou- 
sand enemies have fallen upon the plains. The victory is ours 
and the music is sweet to the conquering warrior, but far away to 
the south, a wail arises for husbands and sons, slain in battle. 
But what has Longstreet been doing these terrible hours? What 
of the 50,000 men under Sumner, and Hooker, and Hancock, 
marching against Maries' Heights? Don't you hear the thunder 
of the Washington Artillery? Don't you hear the screams of 
Alexander's shells? Don't you see Cook and Cobb and Kershaw 
and Ransom rushing their battalions to meet the charging foe? 
Don't you see the brave Cobb fall dead on the field? Don't you 
see the gallant Cook borne away bleeding? Ah, they have been 
fighting, and 8,000 men from the north lie dead or bleeding in the 
plains below. And Burnside rages on Stafford Hills across the 
river, and Lee folds his gray cloak across his breast and says, 
"It is well that this is so terrible, for we might become too fond 
of it." And there is rejoicing all over the South, and thanksgiving 
rises to the heavens from grateful hearts for victory, but we do 
not hear the glad shouts, " Glory to God in the highest, peace on 
earth, good will to men." 



61 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Chancellorsville and Kinston. 
After the battle of Fredericksburg, Pender's Brigade of North 
Carolinians marched six or eight miles down the river and went 
into quarters for the winter. The weather was very cold, and 
pickets along the river banks were not allowed to have fire, for 
the enemy's pickets were on the other side of the river. One dark 
night when the winds were howling down the valley, and it was 
freezing cold, I led the 22nd regiment down into the valley and 
doubled the guard, for a superior officer was intoxicated, and I 
was held responsible for the night. Having stationed the guards 
along the river, I led the rest of the regiment into an old corn field 
and they slept in their blankets on the ground. Late in the night 
a horseman came galloping over the regiment, not seeing a solitary 
man, for a heavy fall of snow had covered the soldiers 
and then there was a resurrection of armed men, and the horseman 
was the intoxicated officer who had lost his way. 

A Snowball Battle. 
A South Carolina Brigade had its winter quarters on a ridge 
across the branch opposite our brigade, and sent us word, a chal- 
lenge, that they would charge us next day for a battle of snow 
balls. The ground was covered a foot deep with the snow. We 
were watching for them and about dinner time we saw about three 
thousand South Carolinians charging down the hill and across the 
branch shouting and yelling. Col. Scale's regiment, 13th N. C. 
first met the attack and, after a fierce fight, lost their camp and 
tents and dinner; then our regiment, the 22nd, came to the rescue } 
and fought valiantly, the snow balls flying through the air by 
hundreds, and the soldiers grappling and rolling in the snow. We 
were about to be defeated, though we were fighting for our dinners 
and commissory stores, when we heard a shout behind us and, 
looking back, saw Col. Lowrance of the 34th N. C. regiment charg- 
ing on horseback, leading his men in double quick time. He took 
the South Carolinians in flank, and, after a fierce rally, we drove 
them down the hill and across the branch into their own camp 

62 



and we regained our tents and provisions. It was a fiercely fought 
battle but very little blood was lost. 

In February, 1863, General Lee sent my brother, Major Cole, 
back to North Carolina after recruits for the army, and some time 
after that I was sent home by recommendation of our regimental 
and division surgeons on account of my health. When the battle 
of Chancellors ville, on the 2nd, 3rd and 4th of May was fought, I 
was confined to my bed, supposed to be dangerously sick. 

My brother had returned to his regiment after sending a large 
number of recruits to General Lee's army. This was the last 
battle fought by my brother. The night before the battle he 
gathered his men around him in a prayer meeting and earnestly 
prayed with them. He was a man of the purest morals and a 
devoted christian. He had been in eighteen pitched battles; he 
and his men knew what it was to face death. They did not go 
into battle because they liked it, but from a stern sense of duty, 
ready to die for their country. He had led his regiment in twelve 
terrible battles and had just been promoted to the Lieutenant 
Colonelcy, and would have been a colonel of his regiment long 
before this, but his colonel had been wounded about twelve months 
before, and had not returned to the regiment, and there was no 
vacancy above him and he had to perform the duties of his Colonel 
and Lieut. Colonel with the rank of Major. The next day he 
followed General Jackson around Hooker's right wing and, in the 
twilight of the 2nd of May, Howard's Federal corps was crushed 
and routed and a fearful battle was fought in darkness and con- 
fusion, 60,000 Confederates against 132,000 Northern soldiers. In 
the darkness, a fatal bullet struck down Jackson, and gave the 
South a mortal wound. On the next morning, 3rd of May, the 
whole Confederate army rushed upon the enemy behind their 
breastworks, and, for hours, face to face, the fearful slaughter 
continued, and Col. Cole, while urging on his men within a few 
yards of the enemy's line, fell mortally wounded and died in two 
minutes. Major Odell rushed to the front and took command and, 
in five minutes he lay wounded unto death on the field; then 
General Pender seized the flag of the 22nd regiment and leaped 
upon the breastworks, followed by the remnant of the regiment 

63 



and his brigade. Then a life went out, more than one, worth all 
the silly, passionate, unjust, intemperate, harangues and argu- 
ments that brought on this wicked war. 

Major Odell was one of the young men belonging to the Ran- 
dolph Company which I drilled in the beginning of the war in 
1861. He and my brother were wrapped in their blankets and 
buried near the battlefield and a short distance away from where 
their great General Jackson died. A few days afterwards Captain 
Odell, brother of the dead hero, and I took our brothers from their 
graves and carried them back to their home in North Carolina. 
Hear the evidence of their generals: At Cold Harbor, General 
Pender says, "Lieut. Col. Gray and Major Cole, 22nd, acted with 
great courage and judgment, leading their regiment promptly 
and with determination, not halting for a moment until they found 
the enemy in their rear." Major Gen. A. P. Hill, said in his re- 
port that, "Especial mention for conspicuous gallantry is made 
of the following officers: Major C. C. Cole, etc." 

After the campaign resulting in the battles of Manassas No. 
2, and Oak Hill, and Chantilly, and Harpers Ferry, and Sharps- 
burg, and Sheperdstown, General Pender speaks as follows: "I 
would also beg leave to mention the names of a few whose actions 
entitle them to notice in the 22nd. The list will be rather long, 
as it is upon it and its commanders I usually call when any dan- 
gerous and special services are to be performed. Major C. C. Cole, 
commanding the 22nd, always acts with coolness, courage and 
skill, etc." After his death General Pender in his official report 
said, "It is with great sorrow that I have to record the death of 
Lieut. Col. Christopher C. Cole and Major L. Odell, 22nd North 
Carolina. Two finer soldiers or gallant men were not to be found 
in the army. They never failed me on any occasion." Again he 
said in alluding to Col. C. C. Cole, "He was the best man I ever 
knew." A distinguished Virginian, when he heard of Col. Cole's 
death, said, "North Carolina has lost her most promising son." 
He was worthy to fight by the side of his generals, Lee and Jackson , 
and A. P. Hill, and Pender, and to die on the same battlefield 
with his great Lieut. General. 

64 



The death of my brother was the greatest sorrow that befell 
me during the four dreadful years of the war in the Third Decade 
of my Life. He died also in the same decade of his Life. 

Henceforth I will touch lightly on the struggle of the last two 
years of the war, but will paint some historical pictures of events 
of those days later, some of which I witnessed, and others from 
the words of comrades and histories, and hang them on the walls 
of memory in subsequent decades. 

Among the fine characters with whom I became acquainted 
about this time, was Captain James Barron Hope of Norfolk, 
Virginia. He was connected with the Confederate quartermasters 
Department,- and was in his prime, about 30 years of age. He 
was an elegant gentleman, a most congenial companion, and a 
poet of beautiful thought and tenderness. He presented one of 
his books of poems to me, which I appreciated very highly. After 
the war he edited a literary paper in the City of Norfolk. It was 
his uncle, Commodore James Barron, who fought the fatal duel 
with Commodore Decatur, in which the latter was slain. 

While passing through Raleigh on my way to the army in 
Virginia, I was informed by the Adjutant General of the State, 
General Gatlin, that I had been appointed Colonel of a regiment 
recently organized by authority of the Legislature, which pro- 
motion came to me by order of Governor Vance and without any 
solicitation or knowledge on my part. I was placed in the brigade 
of General Leaventhorp, who had command in eastern North Caro- 
lina. I was ranking officer in the brigade, next to the General 
and, in his absence, commanded the whole brigade and district. 
General Leaventhorp was an English nobleman who had served 
as Captain in the regular British army for ten years, and fell in 
love with a beautiful young woman in the mountains of North 
Carolina, and resigned from the British army and married and 
made his home among the mountains of this State. When the 
war broke out, being a professional soldier, he was elected a Colonel 
of a regiment and distinguished himself at Gettysburg, where he 
fell desperately wounded, leading his regiment in the fiercest of 
the battle. He was made Brigadier-General by President Davis, 
and I was assigned to his command, and am proud to say that I 

65 



received many compliments from him, and many evidences of 
his friendship. He was distinguished in person, six feet five inches 
tall, slender, and graceful, and elegant in manners, with a lovable 
disposition. The General had ordered me and my regiment to 
take possession of a long line of breastworks on the south side of 
the Neuse River to defend the town of Kinston. The breastworks 
measured probably half a mile in length, but was formed with so 
many angles for artillery and for proper defense that, straight 
down the line was probably not more than a quarter of a mile. 
Cannons of field artillery were placed at intervals with openings 
for firing, and heavy artillery were at important forts. The sol- 
diers' tents were in the rear of the breastworks. My headquarters, 
with my field and staff officers, were near the bridge that spanned 
the river. One night when the moon was playing with the clouds, 
sometimes hiding behind them, and casting shadows over the 
landscape, and then sailing out with her light over the woods to 
startle the sentinels with the waving shadows, like moving, stealthy 
men, I sat in my quarters and looked down on the quiet scene. 
The lights were all out, the soldiers were sleeping in their tents, 
the sentinels were walking their beats along the breastworks. It 
was midnight and I was sitting alone with my eyes taking in the 
scenes, and my mind meditating about the past and the future. 
To a young man with his life in front of him and a commendable 
ambition to spur him on to the future — a man whose mind has 
been filled with noble deeds of the ancients and moderns, war is 
not all battle, and dusty marches, and hardships, and disaster. 
The thunder of the cannon, and the rattle of musketry, and the 
charge of cavalry thrills the young soldier, and makes his face 
flush, and the yell of ten thousand men in combat, stirs the soul 
as nothing else can. There is a romance in war that mingles with 
the sorrows of the battle fields, that gives pleasure to the youthful 
soldier, and makes the horrors of war endurable. Such thoughts 
as these were passing through my mind as the battlefields of the 
past and contemplation of the future came before me. What was 
the future to be? Were we to be victorious or were we to be con- 
quered? Were the deaths of our brothers and comrades to be in 
vain after all their heroic efforts and martyrdom ? And my thoughts 

66 



went back to the old folks at home, and the smiles of love, of en- 
couragement, and romance, and music, and memory, of other 
days, and love for the beautiful girls left behind, conquered my 
gloomy thoughts, and then I said, "We will fight to the finish and 
go down fighting if we must go down." But I longed for the old 
happy days when I could sing with Longfellow, 

"And the night shall be filled with music, 

And the cares that infest the day 
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs 

And as silently steal away." 
Then I heard on the silent night air the galloping of a horse; 
he was coming from the direction of the enemy; we heard the chal- 
lenge of the sentinel, "Halt! Halt!" But he shouted, "The enemy 
is coming, the enemy is near," and he passed my quarters at full 
speed and dashed across the bridge to report to the general on the 
other side. I awoke my adjutant and told him to have the "long 
roll" beat, and command the officers to station their men along 
the breastworks to face the enemy, and he ended by saying, "You 
know what the Colonel's orders are." That meant that every soldier 
must be at his designated place in five minutes from the sound of 
the alarm. The soldiers seized their guns and cartridge boxes in 
one hand and their clothes in the other and ran down the line, and 
when I walked down on top of the breastworks, every man was in 
his place ready for the enemy. The night wore on, day break 
came and the sun rose over the forest out in front of us, but no 
enemy appeared; they came within a mile but thought better of 
it, and went back. I stationed pickets out about a mile from 
camp, so that we could not be surprised. The alarm came from 
the cavalry. That night's episode, without bloodshed, presented 
a picture of war and peace, of the past and future, of hope and 
fear, of light and darkness, of love and hate. If I were an artist I 
would paint that picture for its beauty and sentiment; its racing 
clouds, the fickle moon, the dark woods, the grim breastworks 
and the threatening cannons, the silent tents, the watchful sen- 
tinel, the flowing river, the solitary officer, the galloping horseman, 
the challenge of the sentinel, the cry of "The enemy is coming." 
It is not the battle scene of war, with its crimson plains, but its 
romance. 

67 



CHAPTER IX. 

End or the War. 

The year 1864 closed with Richmond and Petersburg be- 
sieged by Grant with 150,000 soldiers against Lee's 50,000, and 
starvation threatening the destruction of the Southern army. 
Johnston had been driven through the mountains of Georgia by 
Sherman, with his 100,000 veterans, and Hood, who succeeded 
Johnston had almost been destroyed in Tennessee by Thomas, 
while Sherman marched to the sea. The Trans-Mississippi De- 
partment, almost from the Missouri River to the Gulf, was in 
possession of the enemy. 1,000,000 indomitable soldiers, with a 
thousand cannon, forty thousand horsemen, and a million muskets 
and bayonets, were charging on the 200,000 remnant of the South- 
ern veterans on almost every square mile of the South. This was 
the condition all over the land, from the Potomac to the Rio 
Grande, and yet the Southern soldier fought as valiantly the 
last day as he did the first, with his face to the enemy and his 
back to his wife and his home. He was fighting for his State, 
which was his country. 

In April, 1865, General Beauregard gave me orders to select 
20 picked men on horseback, and go westward into the moun- 
tains of North Carolina, until I met General Stoneman's 6,000 
horsemen coming eastward from Tennessee to head off General 
Johnston, who was retreating before General Sherman from east- 
ern North Carolina. We were gone about ten days, and rode 
probably two hundred miles in western North Carolina and south- 
western Virginia, and sent word of the movements of Stoneman, 
and brought back the latest information concerning him, and was 
gratified to receive the thanks of General Beauregard, who said 
that we had given him later information about the movements 
of the enemy than he had received from any other source. It 
was while up in the mountains on this expedition that a drunken 
soldier, in the approaching darkness of the night, leveled his gun 
to shoot me for threatening to arrest him for disorderly conduct, 
when Col. A. H.. Belo rode up, unexpectedly, and seized the gun 
and thereby in all probability, saved my life. He was also on a 

68 



scouting expedition. Col. Belo and myself were both young men, 
raised in adjoining counties, but had never met before, and it was 
a very fortunate meeting for me. We both came to Texas after 
the war and, for many years before his death, we lived within a 
hundred yards of each other in Dallas. He was proprietor of the 
Galveston-Dallas News, the two great newspapers of the State. 

While following Stoneman into Virginia, I passed through 
Patrick County, where I lived in my childhood, and met the fami- 
lies of Penns, and Tatums, and Murphy s, some of whom were my 
relatives and some my schoolmates in my first decade, and this 
was our first meeting since those early days ; and I was astonished 
to hear some of them call me by my given name before I made 
myself known. From a six year old country schoolboy to a uni- 
formed Colonel of 25, in the midst of war, was a far cry. But it 
is such meetings as this and such recollections as this that make 
life worth living. I visited the old homestead and the grave of 
my mother, that sweet mother that said, "Let him stay," while 
she was dying. 0! memory! how wonderful are your powers! 
The years may roll on, misfortunes may fall from black clouds, 
thunders may shake the earth, friends and foes may love and hate, 
the pictures of time may be painted over the heart, but a falling 
leaf from the bygone days, a whispering breeze from the sleeping 
years, turns back the ages, and the faces, and the forms, and words 
of love, come back to us, and the tears flow fresh from the eyes 
of memory. 

When we returned from our scouting in the west, to Greens- 
boro, North Carolina, where Generals Johnston and Beauregard, 
with their generals and armies were camped, we first heard of 
General Lee's surrender. It was a time of clouds and darkness, 
and unavailing sorrow. A nation had fallen ; a great army had been 
destroyed; there was no sunshine for defeat; everything seemed 
lost, except honor. I stood on the street corner near my home, 
and saw President Davis and Breckenridge on horseback, followed 
by the rest of the Confederate Cabinet, turn their backs on the 
battlefields of Virginia and burning Richmond and ride away to 
the South, and, some of them, to captivity. It was a picture of 
gloom painted by the brush of history, — a tragedy darker than 

69 



that of the weeping willows of St. Helena, or the death struggle of 
the Caesar as he said, "Et tu Brute," or the block on which the 
head of the English king fell. 

There were about 30,000 of the various Confederate armies 
in and around the town, and some disorders and rioting and storm- 
ing of the Quarter master's buildings occurred. I was requested 
to ask General Beauregard for soldiers to protect property and 
life from insubordinate soldiers. He promptly sent relief and a 
fight in the street took place and four men were killed. Governor 
Vance sent for me and ordered me to take charge of all the State's 
property and distribute the goods — clothing of all kinds and other 
property belonging to the State which had been accumulated by 
the blockade running. Major General Brantley, of Mississippi, 
reported to me with 300 soldiers to protect the building while I 
was distributing everything to the soldiers. All were treated alike 
from whatever State they came, by order of Governor Vance. 
More than a million dollars worth of clothing, etc., were given to 
the ragged, hungry, defeated veterans before they were sent out for 
their distant homes in the far south and west. This was my last 
service in the Southern Confederacy. 

In these last days of April, 1865, I saw many of the great men 
who made history during the past four years, and will fill many 
pages of the records of the times. The fates had driven them 
together into this little town from the north and south and east 
and west. Jefferson Davis, with his conspicuous record on battle- 
field and the forum, in Mexico, the Senate, the War Secretary, 
the Presidency, destined to captivity and shamefiil irons. John 
C. Breckenridge, the orator, senator, warrior, hero, idol of the 
South. Beauregard, the skilful general, the stubborn fighter, the 
polished gentleman. Joseph E. Johnston, the great general, the 
man of brains, of skill, the ideal soldier. O yes, there were 30,000 
more, all heroes, all patriots, all unconquered but overpowered. 
But Sherman was coming from the east, and Thomas from the 
west, and Grant from the north. Good-bye, O heroes of Rich- 
mond, of Manassas, of Fredericksburg, of Chancellors ville, of 
Gettysburg, of the Wilderness — good-bye to you of Shiloh, of 
Murphysboro, of Chickamauga, of Chattanooga, of Atlanta, of 

70 



Franklin, of Vicksburg — goodbye to the men of Forest, of Morgan, 
of Wheeler, of Price, of Cabell, of Cleburne, of Hood. Your homes 
await you with broken pillars and devastated fields and outstretched 
hands of weeping wives and loving children. You will not remain 
long with bent forms and desolate homes. Men that held 2,000,000 
of fierce soldiers in deadly embrace for four years in defense of 
fireside and sweethearts, will not die among the weeds and willows, 
but they and their sons and daughters will soon have beautiful 
homes of fields, and prosperity, and the rustling corn, and the 
waving wheat, and the white cotton, and the cattle on a thousand 
hills, and the rose, and the lily, and the honey suckle, and all the 
battalion of flowers, will soon make those sad hearts glad with the 
love of a kind Providence. 

There is one figure yet that rises before my eyes — a colossal 
figure to be admired and loved, to occupy a lofty place in the 
"house of fame" and the hearts of .his countrymen. Every State 
had its patriotic Governor, and its thousand heroes, but I wish to 
pay my respects to the great War Governor of the South, Zebulon 
Baird Vance, Governor of North Carolina. Who that ever knew 
him could ever forget him? Who could fail to honor him, to love 
him? A mountain boy of 200 pounds, and six feet high, a uni- 
versity scholar before he was 20, with long black hair and laughing 
face, and kindly eye and tongue of wit, and full of fun and anec- 
dotes. District Attorney before he was 25, congressman at Wash- 
ington twice before he was 30, Colonel of a regiment and hero in 
battle before he was 31, Governor of North Carolina at 32 and 
again at 34, a great governor for three years of the war. When 
the war was over he told the Federal commander if he should 
want him at any time, just telegraph or write to him and he would 
report. He was not the kind to run. One day, it was his 35th 
birthday, his wife had prepared an extra dinner for the occasion, 
some "flowery doings," as he said, when all at once a regiment of 
Federal cavalry galloped up and surrounded the house. The 
Governor arose from the table and went to see what was the mat- 
ter, and was met by the Yankee commander who politely informed 
him that he had come to arrest him. The Governor told the officer 
to be as considerate as he could on account of his wife. Just at 

71 



this moment Mrs. Vance appeared and asked the officer what he 
wanted, and was told that he had come for the Governor. She 
asked, "What has my husband done, sir, to cause his arrest ?" 
He replied that it was a mere form, nothing serious was intended. 
She said, "How many soldiers have you brought with you?" He 
said, "300. " She said, "Well, sir, I am glad that you thinkmy husband 
is equal to 300 of your soldiers — I think he is worth many more 
than that." In the meantime the Governor was nearly bursting 
with laughter, and was winking at his wife to make her stop, but 
she was not to be stopped. She was a worthy companion of a 
great man. I received the description of this scene from the Gov- 
ernor himself after his return from prison in the old capital at 
Washington City. He was afterwards elected Governor for the 
third time, then three times United States Senator, and finally 
died the best beloved man in his State. I knew him well. He 
honored me with his friendship, his confidence and his orders. I 
still have and cherish his photograph which he had taken for me 
about the close of the war. 



72 



CHAPTER X. 

The West. 

I will now pass from the scenes of a war that never should 
have been fought. I have only given you a hazy, kaleidoscopic, 
a birdseye view, of a few of the scenes of those dark days, dealing 
lightly, or not at all, with great events, and touching, mainly, 
small incidents, knowing that History w 7 ould attend to the more 
important facts, and record them for future generations. 

Look around! Look around! Ah, what do I see? A new 
world! Is this the land, and the home, and the people of 1860. 
Where are the boys of my college days? On the battlefields of a 
dead nation! Gone is the old plantation — Gone is the home of 
my youth — gone are the familiar faces of the servants — gone that 
pretty girl I left behind me, she forgot the soldier boy whom she 
"believed numbered among the gallant dead." A new world and 
I must be up and doing. 

My capital now consisted of my education and character — 
whatever they were worth. The Sunday school room of the Meth- 
odist Church in our little city was offered to me in which to 
teach a select school, some of the finest people sending their sons 
and daughters to be prepared for college, and several of the boys 
became distinguished men in professional and business life, while 
the beautiful girls became accomplished women, and have adorned 
happy homes in their native State and other lands. But the 
"World is a whirligig, " and soon had us whirling away from home 
to seek our fortunes in different States. 

In the spring of 1866, I received a telegram from a friend in 
Alabama, asking me to visit him with expectations of business 
arrangements. As the railroads south were torn up and travel 
interrupted I had to go north and had to take the road leading 
through East Tennessee. I traveled with some of the Virginia 
delegates on their way to New Orleans to attend the General 
Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. While 
passing through East Tennessee a large gentleman came into the 
car where I was seated and sat down by me. He appeared to be 
about forty years of age and had on a heavy rough overcoat. 

73 



We entered into conversation and he introduced himself as Gen. 
Hayes of Ohio, a soldier of the Federal army. I told him I had 
been an officer in the Confederate army. He was very talkative 
and we discussed the war, and he described the battle of Franklin 
between Hood and Schofield. He said Hood was justified in 
fighting the battle for he would destroy the Federal army if he 
succeeded in defeating it, as its back was to the river in its rear, 
and escape would have been impossible in case of defeat. He said 
Hood came very near gaining the victory and would have suc- 
ceeded but for one precaution of his (Gen. Hayes). He reserved 
one strong Ohio regiment of his brigade for the contingency of the 
Federal line being broken, which happened when Cleburne charged 
against the breastworks and Adams, on horseback, was killed 
across them. In the confusion of the hand to hand fight, he charged 
with the reserved regiment, and restored the battle, and Cleburne 
was killed, He said he thought he would have to meet Cleburne 
in personal combat, and I remarked that in that event he would 
have gone down before the Southern General, but he said, "No," 
he was a larger man and would have gained the fight. This gen- 
tleman afterwards became governor of Ohio and President of the 
United States. 

While in Alabama I met ex-Governor Moore of that State in 
Marion and told him I was a free lance now hunting for something 
to do. He said they had a female college in his town and needed 
a president, but I told him I was too young for such a position and 
was a single man. He said that made no difference, that I would 
be getting older every day, and my being a single man could be 
remedied easily, that he had two young daughters himself. He 
laughed heartily at his statements, and I missed a great oppor- 
tunity — fortunately for the college, the young ladies, and the 
future generation in Texas. On returning to Greensboro, N. C, 
one Sunday I was taking dinner with the Rev. John Long's family, 
and met a distinguished minister from California — the editor of 
the Methodist Advocate of that State. He afterwards became a 
Bishop in the Methodist Church. I told him if he had any position 
in an educational institution in his part of the country, that I 
could fill, I would be glad to put myself at his service. About 

74 



three months after that I received a letter from him offering a 
professorship in a college in California; but it came too late; it 
followed me to Texas, where I had accepted a position in McKenzie 
College of that State. Dr. Craven, President of Trinity College, 
N. C, had been requested by Dr. McKenzie to recommend to 
him a young man for the Chair of Ancient Languages in his col- 
lege in Texas, and Bishop Doggett had joined with Dr. Craven in 
my recommendation, and the position, was offered and accepted 
before I received the California offer. These distinguished minis- 
ters had met in the General Conference at New Orleans. In the 
summer of 1866 I attended the commencement exercises of my 
old college and received the degree of Master of Arts. 

About the 29th of August I set out for Texas, the unknown, 
romantic, mythical land of the Mexican, the Indian, the Alamo, 
the desperado, the buffalo, the wild mustang, and the indomit- 
able heroes of war. I will tell you later about a "Tenderfoot" 
from North Carolina coming to Texas. I loved my native State 
with a passionate love. I had received nothing but kindness, love, 
and honor, during the 26 years of my life, in her borders; I had 
traveled over her mountains, and fields, and forests, and rivers, 
and sounds, and along her seashores, and everywhere, her young 
men were my friends and her old men were my mentors, and I 
thought her daughters "The fairest that ere the sun shone on." 
So I shook hands with my kindred and friends, received their 
blessings, and rode away over the hills into the sunset. 

Traveling in the South, 45 years ago, was not what it is to-day. 
From Greensboro, North Carolina to Clarksville, Texas, now less 
than three days' journey, then it took me seventeen days to make 
the connection. The first night after starting, all the cars ran off 
the track and turned over except the one I was on. The next day, 
through part of South Carolina, I had to take the stage coach, 
because the railroads had been torn up by Sherman. When I 
struck Alabama, I had to transfer to the steamboat on the Alabama 
River. At Selma I heard that the cholera was raging at Mobile, 
so I changed my course for Vicksburg on the Mississippi. The 
next morning after my arrival there, it was reported that thirty 
persons had died in the city during the night of the cholera. I 

75 



tried to go by private conveyance westward across Louisiana, but 
after traveling four miles in the night on the levees in a storm of 
rain, I discovered that my driver had the cholera, so next morning 
I went back to Vicksburg and took boat down the river to the 
mouth of Red River. There I remained on an old hotel boat 
sixty hours and took steamer up Red River to Shreveport very 
sick with the fever. There I took the railroad to Marshall, and 
then by stage by Jefferson to Clarksville, then to McKenzie Col- 
lege. I arrived at the College on the 6th of September, 1866, a 
stranger, 1500 miles from home, almost in a different civilization, 
and met, for the first time, Dr. McKenzie and his family, and 
Bishop Marvin of Missouri on his way to hold his first Conference. 
McKenzie College had been in existence for about twenty 
years, was owned and controlled by its founder, Dr. J. W. P. 
McKenzie, consisted of several two or three story frame buildings 
and the president's residence of 8 or 10 rooms of logs, conven- 
iently put together. His former residence had burned down. All 
these buildings were located on a prairie about four miles south of 
Clarksville. There were something over a hundred young men 
and a dozen or two young ladies attending the school at this time. 
These students came from all parts of Texas, and from Louisiana 
and Arkansas and the Indian Territory. Everything was strange 
to me, and it took some time for me to adjust myself to the con- 
ditions. The president was a noted preacher, and had been a 
missionary among the Indians for several years, and prominent 
Indians sent their sons to be educated in that school. I remained 
here at the head of the department of Ancient Languages for one 
session and then, at the earnest solicitation of my brother, Dr. 
Robert B. Cole, I accepted the presidency of the Bonham Masonic 
Female Seminary. My brother had moved to Texas from Vir- 
ginia about six months before I came to the State and was living 
in Bonham at this time. His family and one of my room mates 
at Trinity College before the war, John B. Choice, of Virginia, 
were the only people I knew in Texas as far as I knew. I remained 
in Bonham only one session, but spent a happy time with my lady 
students, and made some good, strong, noble friends among the 
men. Among these I especially remember Judge Roberts, Col. 

76 



Reagan, Col. Lyday, and Major Grace. But the West was still 
calling, and the next two years I taught in Canaan Institute in 
Grayson County. This institution was located in a rich, beautiful 
prairie country, and the building was recently built, and the people 
were intelligent and prosperous. Among the prominent families 
were the Kings, the Montgomerys, the Everharts, the Heads, the 
Newcombs, the McMurrays, the Binkleys, the Batsells and the 
Bryants. 

About four miles west of Canaan Institute there was living a 
very prominent gentleman, a planter and physician, Dr. Richard 
D. King. His practice extended twenty miles around, and he 
was greatly respected and honored by all who knew him. He and 
his four brothers had emigrated from Tennessee in the early 50's 
and all were prominent citizens. Their two great uncles, prominent 
ministers, were among the founders of the Cumberland Presby- 
terian Church in Tennessee. This Dr. King was a widower with 
one child — a daughter. Her name was Mary Parrish; she was 
eighteen years of age. Her mother was a Parrish, of a fine family 
in Tennessee. The first time I saw this lady was at church, and I 
noticed how gracefully she rode her beautiful horse. The next 
time I saw her was when she was the good Samaritan in the sick 
room. The next time was when I called one cold snowy day; and 
after that the moonlight gallop over the prairies to Christmas 
parties. On the 5th of May, 1868, I led this beautiful, lovely, 
graceful maiden to the altar, where the Rev. Robert Jones, changed 
her name to Mary King Cole. This occurred in the latter part of 
the Third Decade of my life and the latter part of the Second 
Decade of her life; and through all subsequent decades she has 
been with me, acting well her part, in joys and sorrows. 

If you have read this uninteresting narrative thus far, you have 
observed that many events have been noted that were of small 
importance and probably I should have shortened this decade by 
leaving them out, but all of them bore their impress on my heart, 
and some of them were important factors, bearing on my future 
movements. The events of this Decade were of great importance 
to me. My graduation at college; the terrible "four years war, of 
which I was one of the 600,000 who faced the storm; my leaving 

77 



home and going "West to grow up with the country;' 7 my marriage 
and beginning a new life. I could not tell all this in a few pages. 
I will now close with one important event. On the 15th of August, 
1869, just one hundred years after the birth of the great Napoleon, 
my first child, May Wightman Cole, was born, and she is still 
making life lively wherever she goes. That is a good event with 
which to close the Third Decade. I am thankful that I have thus 
far escaped the club of Jesse Holmes; on several occasions I real- 
ized that I was in great danger, and felt his powerful influence and 
barely escaped. Now follow me into the Fourth Decade. 




78 



THE FOURTH DECADE. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Running for the Legislature. 

Thirty years had gone down the ages since the small voice 
that is now talking to you was first heard among the hills of the 
Old North State. Old Mayo River, that was born when the flood 
rolled from the mountains into the sea, is still singing among the 
foot hills as it did when I played along its banks. The great oaks 
in the woodland still shake the icicles from the outstretched 
branches, as the wintry storms howl through the forests. The songs 
of the birds along the branches and in the willows, are as sweet as 
of yore, and the eagle rises from the mountain peaks and soars 
among the clouds just as he did when the days of my life were 
young and covered with the dew drops of the morning. But ah 
who could hold back the wheels of time as they roll us through the 
gates of the seasons? From his mother's arms the child passes 
through the old field school, and then through the college hall, and 
then through battles and changes of young manhood, and then 
he shoulders the responsibility of the home, the labor, the family, 
and marches on as Providence may direct him. 

I am now starting in the Fourth Decade and am living with 
the grand old man who gave his daughter to me. While he gave 
her to me, he did not want to give her up entirely, and I told him 
I would as soon live there as anywhere in the world. I was a 
steward in the Southern Methodist Church, and was elected dele- 
gate to the Annual Conference to meet in Dallas in the fall of 
1868. I attended that Conference, riding horseback in company 
with the Rev. Mr. Robbins. We stayed all night at the home of 
Governor Throckmorton, three miles in the country from McKin- 
ney. This was the first time that I ever met this great man. He 
was out hunting when we reached his home and soon came in 
dressed in a buckskin hunting suit and carrying his rifle. We sat 
up that night till midnight, and he entertained us with anecdotes 
of early times, of Indian raids and warfare, and political history 
of the State. He opposed secession and voted against it in the 
Constitutional Convention that carried the State out of the Union. 

79 



He was true to his State after secession, and was appointed Briga- 
dier General, and commissioned, by the Government, to look 
after the wild Indians then occupying about half of the State. I 
became intimately acquainted with him in after years and helped 
to educate his sons in college. He had been elected Governor of 
the State by the people after the war, but, though he was conser- 
vative and just, and prudent, he did not suit the reconstruction 
officials, and there were too many unionists who fought against 
Texas in the war, and too many Federal soldiers wanting office, 
so General Sheridan, who cammanded the department of Texas, 
removed him from the governorship, as an impediment to recon- 
struction and appointed another to his place. Governor Throck- 
morton was not only an able lawyer and statesman, but one of 
the most genial and kind hearted men I ever knew. While he was 
in Congress in Washington, in 1876, I called on him as I was on 
my way to the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia. He asked 
me where I was staying and sent for my baggage and requested 
me to occupy one of his rooms where he was boarding. I was 
delighted to be with him. He introduced me to several of the 
prominent senators and representative men, famous in that day, 
and visited interesting places in the city with me and, after four 
days passed with him, I requested to see the proprietor of the 
hotel, as I was about to leave, and wished to settle my bill. He 
informed me that he was the landlord, and that I had no bill to 
settle. He was always popular with the people and was elected 
to Congress whenever he was a candidate, but was defeated for 
Governor, and the United States Senate by the politicians who 
would not forgive him for voting against secession of the State 
in 1861. 

I will now continue my journey with the Rev. Mr. Robbins 
to Dallas. Remember, this was about forty-five years ago, and 
I found Dallas a small village on the Trinity River, in Dallas 
County, with about 1200 inhabitants. One hotel, one small court 
house and a few stores on the square, all on the banks of the river, 
and a few residences in the sand a few hundred yards from the 
square, constituted Dallas, the imperial city of the southwest. 
There were no railroads, no street cars, no telegraph, no telephone, 

80 



no electric lights, two or three churches, one school, several law- 
yers, and. that was Dallas in 1868. But there were strong men 
and fine women here, and the eyes of the State were on the future 
city even at this early date. I became acquainted with some able 
preachers at this Conference, and had met some of them before. 
Bishop Kavanaugh of Kentucky, Dr. Young, Ellis, Binkley, 
Hawkins, McKenzie, McFerrin of Tennessee, McLean, Petty and 
others. I heard two great sermons by Bishop Kavanaugh and 
McFerrin. I was placed on the committee of education and 
brought in a report recommending a united action of all the 
Methodist Conferences in Texas in establishing a University for 
the church, and a college for each conference. This was defeated, 
as the majority thought we were not ready for so great an under- 
taking. One year from that time I was a delegate to the confer- 
ence at Paris, Texas, and was chairman of the committee on 
education and brought in the same report, and as Dr. Mood, 
President of Soule University, was with us in this conference, 
and was presenting a plan for the University, he united with the 
committee in recommending the report, and it was adopted as to 
the University. The Southwestern University at Georgetown 
was the result of our combined efforts, and now, in 1913, the great 
Southern Methodist University at Dallas, is the final outcome of 
that little stone I started rolling down the mountain side. 

In 1869, when I had been in Texas less than three years, some 
of my friends persuaded me to become a candidate for the legis- 
lature. The district that I was to represent extended to New 
Mexico, and was larger than all New England, and was the home 
of the wild Indians, desperadoes, and Mexicans, and newly made 
freedmen, as well as by brave frontiersmen. The white ciizens 
were not only brave and self reliant, but intelligent and fine re- 
presentatives of the best people from the Old States. Considering 
the situation and importance of the legislature that had to meet 
all the responsibilities and exigencies of reconstruction of the State 
in the Union after the war, and considering my youth and inex- 
perience and ignorance of the situation, I wonder now that Jesse 
Holmes did not wear his club out on me for accepting the invita- 
tions extended me by my friends. But I have heard that a certain 

81 



class of people rush in where angels hesitate, and so I mounted 
my pony and, in company with Judge Anthony Bryant, a friend 
of mine who was running for the Senate, I struck out for the west 
to invade the land of the Indian and canvass as many of the 100 
counties in my district as I could. The Judge was a strong Re- 
publican in his politics, an able man, nearly twice as old as I was, 
and had a pretty strong temper; so I had to be careful in my 
speeches, as I was a Democrat. The first day out we spoke at 
Whitesboro, in the western part of Grayson County. I made 
a failure, because, out of consideration for the Judge, I was very 
mild in my democracy, and tried to straddle the fence in present- 
ing my views. You must remember this was soon after the war, 
and we were a conquered people, and were still under the military 
rule, and civil law was unknown, and passions ran high, and many 
white people were disfranchised, and all the negroes had been 
enfranchised, and Democrats had to be careful what they said 
or did, because they were rebels. But as we rode westward to 
Gainesville the next day, I told the Judge that I had made a failure 
in my first speech, because I did not want to cross him, and now 
I intended to change in my addresses and tell the people just what 
I would do if I should be their representative, and that he must 
take care of his side, and I would look out for mine. He didn't 
like it, and argued the matter along the way, but I re- 
mained firm. After dinner Judge Hart adjourned the court to 
give us a chance to address the people, and we had a fine audience, 
some remarkable men in Texas history, being present. Some of 
these were, Governor Throckmorton, Judge Binkley, Judge Hurt, 
Judge Hare, Judge Weaver, Col. Broughton, Col. Boulden and 
others. I did much better on this occasion than on the first, and 
was assured of the support of the people present. We canvassed 
three counties, the best populated, twice, and didn't go any further 
west, as our friends, the Indians, were on the war path, and, in- 
stead of giving votes, they were giving tomahawks, and bullets, 
and scalping knives. Before the canvass was over, very strong 
language and angry feelings prevailed, and the "villian," the "lie," 
and the six shooter were in evidence. Being a peaceful man I 
joined General Grant in sentiment and said, "Let us have peace." 

82 



Candidates for the legislature and congress had to be elected, and 
both political parties were working. I was elected by a vote over 
my opponent by about two to one. Jack and Wise Counties were 
in my district, and Wise County voted for me, but spelled my 
name "Kohl," as they were mainly Germans, and the Governor, 
or General of the department wouldn't let me have the votes. 
Jack County cast 11 votes, 10 for me and one against me, so that 
I claimed that county by 10 to 1. Thirty years after this, I was 
in Wise County, a perfect stranger, and some of the settlers were 
entertaining me with incidents and accidents and border tales, 
supposing me to be a new comer, and I asked them how long they 
had been living in the county, and they said they came there at 
an early day, about 1875, or 1880. I then surprised them very 
much by telling them that I represented their county ten years 
before they became citizens there. They didn't have any more 
tales to tell. At Pilot Grove, in the southeastern part of Grayson 
County, were stationed one or two companies of United States 
troops, because of bands of desperadoes in the county going about 
murdering and robbing. All the candidates spoke there, and the 
soldiers, with their officers, were present. My opponents took 
advantage of the kind of audience to aggravate the situation and 
to be free with their abuse. All this had the effect of warming 
my circulation, and I told them of some things a little warmer 
than the atmosphere around the North Pole. Captain Campbell, 
the commander of the soldiers, was appealed to against me, but 
he said, "Gentlemen, the war is over, every man can talk as he 
pleases, without any interference on my part," and then he in- 
vited all of us to his camp to partake of refreshment, mainly of 
the liquid kind. 



83 



CHAPTER XII. 

The Twelfth Legislature. 

The Legislature that had assembled in Austin in the first week 
of January, 1870, was known as the Twelfth Legislature of Texas. 
Each house was nearly two-thirds Republican and soon became 
two-thirds by Democrats being thrown out of their seats and 
Republicans substituted. There were two negroes in the Senate 
and about twelve in the house. Judge Edmund J. Davis was 
Governor. He was a Texan, but served in the army of the United 
States against his State. There were many men known as carpet 
baggers from the North, some of them very obnoxious, and some 
very clever gentlemen. Among the latter class, I recall Represen- 
tatives Plumly, Sinclair, Evans and Schutze. They were able 
men and made good citizens. The first session lasted only about 
seventeen days, as we had to adopt the thirteenth, fourteenth, 
and fifteenth amendments to the United States Constitution, per- 
taining, mainly, to slavery and the negro race, and elect United 
States Senators, and await the action of Congress. 

The following session began the latter part of April, when the 
Governor was inaugurated, and lasted four or five months. My 
wife and baby went with me to Austin when I attended the second 
session, and, because of floods we were on the road in the hack 
eleven days, enduring great hardship and some danger. Up to 
this time the State was under military law, and General Reynolds, 
of the United States army, commanded in Texas. Now we com- 
menced, under a new constitution, and under reconstruction laws 
passed by Congress, to organize a new government and make laws 
for the government of the State. The army, the carpet baggers, 
and the negroes, under Governor E. J. Davis, backed by the Con- 
gress, were in full power, and many oppressive, unjust laws were 
made, and civil laws suspended, and martial law proclaimed 
and the people were outraged in many ways, so that the years 
of this Legislature and the next, under Governor Davis, known 
as the Reconstructed period, have gone down in the history of 
the State as a disgrace to civilization. The Legislature, as a whole, 
was composed of an able body of men, and, of course, many of 

84 



the laws enacted were good and necessary. During the thirteen 
months and four sessions of the Legislature, I became acquainted 
with many prominent men from all parts of the State, and traveled 
over most of the territory from the Red River to the Gulf. Capt. 
Warren, of Denton, my colleague from my district, was expelled 
from his seat, as he had been a civil officer before the war, and 
couldn't take the ironclad oath, and a Republican substituted, 
and Dr. Elliott, of Cook County, also elected on the same ticket, 
became demented and died in the Asylum at Austin, so that I 
was the only representative over the vast territory of my district, 
until their places were filled. Because of serious sickness of my 
child, I carried my wife home during the session, riding in a four 
horse stage, day and night, until my final arrival at home in Gray- 
son County at midnight. During the discussion of a bill very 
obnoxious to the Democrats, the bill known as the Militia Bill, 
when a vote was about to be forced in the Senate, all the Democrats 
left the Chamber to break a quorum. The Sergeant-at-Arms 
arrested two or three of the Senators, and brought them back, 
and, the quorum being restored, all the desks of the absent Demo- 
cratic Senators were removed from the hall, and, for six weeks 
these Democrats were not allowed to take any part in the pro- 
ceedings. This will give you an idea of the fairness and the conduct 
of the Republican majority. The same attempt was made in the 
House and all the Democrats left the hall. I thought it was a 
good time to get my dinner, and afterwards to return to the capital 
to see the results of our action, and I found the House in Session, 
but the doors closed against the absentees; I demanded admission 
but was refused by the doorkeeper inside; I stepped back about 
ten feet and made a football rush and the door flew open and the 
door keeper went whirling, and I took my seat at my desk and 
had a little controversy with the speaker. I was on the committee 
of education, of which Julius Schutze, an educated German, was 
chairman, and we, by a vote of the Legislature, chartered and 
named the Southwestern University at Georgetown, and the 
Agricultural and Mechanical College in Brazos County. That 
was the beginning of these two great institutions of learning. 
Many other institutions were thus chartered. 

85 



The Republican State Treasurer, Mr. Honey, and Governor 
Davis had a falling out, and the Governor suspended the Treas- 
urer, and preferred charges against him. I attended the trial in 
the Travis County Courthouse and' witnessed the sharp tilts be- 
tween the Governor as a witness and Major Buck Walton and 
Col. Terrell, two distinguished lawyers employed by Mr. Honey. 
While the Treasurer was under arrest and suspended from his 
office, a United States officer was appointed Treasurer by the 
Governor, and one day he was missing, and had disappeared with 
$30,000 belonging to the State, as was reported. It was said he 
fled to Belgium, where he could not be extradited. He left a beau- 
tiful wife and a damaged reputation. 

I was appointed on a committee to visit the Lunatic Asylum 
and report on its management. The Lunatic Asylum is located 
in a beautiful grove just outside the city. The sight of the idiots 
wandering about the grounds, and the wild and dangerous lunatics 
and crazy men confined in their rooms, or walking up and down 
the halls, locked in by their guards and keepers, was melancholy 
and sorrowful, and enough to appeal to the sympathy of all be- 
cause of their unhappy fate and ruined lives. They were dan- 
gerous and ready to attack strangers visiting the Asylum, and 
had to be closely watched. 

There were distinguished men in the Senate. Among these 
were Lieut. Governor Pickett, Col. Broughton, Captain Douglass, 
Webster Flanagan and General Parsons. The last mentioned 
Senator had been a distinguished cavalry general in the Con- 
federate army, and refused to surrender at the close of the war, 
or live under the Federal government, so he, with others, sailed 
away to Brazil to cast their destiny in that southern land, and 
make their homes in Brazil. The Portugese language, and the 
mixed population, and general outlook for him in that country, 
didn't appeal to his ambition, and, after due meditation, he con- 
cluded that he could live under the Stars and Stripes, and he 
returned and made his home in Texas. He left the United States 
a bitter secession rebel, and came back a strong reconstructed 
Republican. He was an eloquent orator, and accomplished gen- 
tleman. His brother, who was a clerk in the Senate, moved to 

86 



Chicago, was tried as an anarchist, and was hung for conspiracy 
for murder of many policemen by bombs thrown among them. 
We were entertained by Dr. H. A. Parrish and his family and re- 
ceived very friendly attentions from them. He was a distinguished 
physician, and his wife was a descendant of Pocahontas, being 
a grand daughter of Lieut. Randolph of the United States Navy, 
who, while on a boat in the Potomac, because of an injustice to 
him, as he claimed, pulled President Jackson's nose, and leaped 
from the boat before the hero of New Orleans could resent the 
insult. 

General John B. Hood, the famous Confederate General, 
visited Austin during the sitting of the Twelfth Legislature, and, 
as I served in the army of Northern Virginia with him, I called 
to see him and found him a genial, modest, christian gentleman. 
It was difficult to believe him the man who broke McClellan's 
entrenched line of battle at Gaines Mill in Virginia, and again 
held him in his death grip at Sharpsburg in Maryland, until his 
own division was almost destroyed, or "Made the century to reel," 
at Little Round Top at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, or shattered 
the right wing of Rosecrans at Chickamauga, and led his army in 
the storm of death at Franklin. Yet here he was before me, with 
one leg gone and one hand crippled. He was the president of a 
southern life insurance company, and, some time after this came 
to Sherman and sent for me and wished me to accept the agency 
for his company in North Texas. Believing that I was not suited 
for the business I regretted to decline the offer. 

Judge Booty, of the House of Representatives, was an able 
lawyer and a fine gentleman; he and I ought to have been good 
men, if environments could have had sufficient influence, for we 
roomed together in one of the rooms in the Methodist Church, 
and boarded with the family of Rev. Dr. Wilkes, the pastor of 
the church. 

One day while wandering around the Raymond Hotel, I heard 
a magnificent voice singing the sweet song of "Kathleen Mavour- 
neen," and entering the parlor, I saw General Byrne at the piano. 
That song has always since then been a favorite of mine. General 
Byrne was a distinguished General in the Union Army. He was 

87 



in Texas seeking his fortune and while traveling by stage in the 
far west was attacked and murdered by wild Indians. 

On my arrival home from the spring session of 1871, 1 found a 
sweet little girl in the family, whose name was Ella; she had come 
while I was away, and she is here yet, the happy mother of six 
beautiful children. 

When the last of the Twelfth Legislature expired, I returned 
to my home and family and settled down on my farm and became 
an agriculturist and continued my work as an educator. I was 
not a candidate for the Thirteenth Legislature, but, while visiting 
the capital on business, I was elected enrolling clerk of the Senate, 
and remained in that position a part of the session. At the next 
Democratic State Convention the position of State Superintendent 
of Schools was offered to me, but I declined in order that Major 
Dorn might receive the nomination for State Treasurer, both of 
us being from adjoining counties. I was a member of the Demo- 
cratic executive committee of Grayson and was offered the nom- 
ination for the Senate as a dark horse, but declined. I attended 
the State Conventions that nominated Coke, Roberts, and Ireland 
for Governor, but never took any official or active part in politics 
after this. 




CHAPTER XIII. 

The Centennial Celebration. 

Ten years had passed in 1876, since I had left the old North 
State, and I was homesick for the scenes of my childhood and the 
friends of my young manhood, so I seized the occasion of the Cen- 
tennial National Fair at Philadelphia to visit my old home. I 
w.as received with gladness and not allowed to go to any hotel 
during the two weeks of my stay. I attended the commencement 
occasion of the female college at Greensboro, and revived all the 
tender memories of the Second Decade, and recalled the smiles 
and the words, and the songs of the beautiful girls of that period. 
I dined with' the president of the college and the 200 young ladies 
and with families of former days. I attended the commencement 
exercises of Trinity College, my alma mater, where I had spent 
four happy years as a student. I heard the great preacher, Dr. 
De Witt Talmage, of Brooklyn, deliver a sermon and address, 
both beautiful and splendid, each an hour and a half long. I 
dined with Dr. Craven and his family and Prof. Gannaway and 
his family, and when I asked for my bill at the hotel where I was 
staying, I was informed that I was a guest of the college, and my 
bill was paid. No wonder I loved my college, my home, my State. 
I passed on to Philadelphia, going through Washington and stop- 
ping four days. I remained at the Centennial Fair a week, putting 
up at a hotel where there were 4500 guests. I met Henry Ward 
Beecher and Dom Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, and other celebrities 
and viewed the wonders gathered together from all parts of the 
world. I stood by and saw the silk extracted from the cocoons 
and woven into a beautiful silk pattern for a dress and carried it 
several thousand miles to my wife in Texas. I sent her a loving 
message through the mails, written on the typewriter, the first 
I had ever seen, and something new and wonderful in the world 
then. I met for the last time my old boyhood friend, Pink Tatum, 
with whom I used to sing in the choir, and serenade, and served 
in the Second North Carolina Cavalry. He led a charge in the 
battle of Brandy Station, Virginia, under Stuart, though under 
arrest, without sword or pistol or spurs, and was wounded. He 

89 



was drowned in the Alabama River some years after this. I left 
Philadelphia, passed through New York and Albany to Buffalo, then 
to Niagara, where I gazed upon the Falls, that wonder of Nature, 
then on to St. Louis, and stopped here to attend the National 
Democratic Convention that nominated Tilden and Hendricks, 
who were elected President and Vice-President, but were mani- 
pulated out of office by Congress, in favor of my old comrade of 
East Tennessee, General Hayes. At St. Louis, I met for the last 
time two delegates from my old home in North Carolina, Jno. 
Staples and Jno. Sloan, the latter my comrade in the "Guilford 
Grays" at Fort Macon. We were school boys together and he 
became the gallant Captain of our old company, and surrendered 
at Appomatox. Then I hurried to the South, to the farm, home, 
the family and my friends, after an absense of nearly a month, 
and the "swing around the circle" was pleasant and profitable 
and an event in my life. 

I never could convince the farmers around me that I knew 
anything about farming. They admitted I could beat them in 
books, in scholarship, in learning, but in farming — never. I said 
"What is the matter with my farming? My corn is as good as 
yours, my cotton is as good as yours, my wheat and oats are as 
good as yours, my hogs are as fat as yours — what is the matter 
with my farming?" "Yes," said they, "but you don't put your 
hand to the plow handle, nor the hoe handle, nor to the ax handle. 
You don't work in the field; you teach school and ride round the 
farm and hire other people to work, and you are a politician and 
make speeches — that is not farming." Even the young men I em- 
ployed laughed at my farming. There came a long wet spell and 
the wheat was about to be ruined and the reapers could not be 
used because of the wet soil, and we had to get scythes and cradles 
to cut the wheat after the old style of farming. Now was my 
chance, and I was tired of hearing that I was no farmer because 
I didn't do manual work. So I said to the boys, "Come on and I 
will show you that I can beat you at anything." So we took the 
scythes and cradles and went into the field of wheat. The ground 
was so wet that we sunk over our shoes in the mud. I took the 
first row in the lead and told the boys to fall in and follow me. 

90 



All day long I swung that cradle and the wheat, hanging their 
heads from the dew and the rain, fell before the regular strokes of 
my scythe. At night the boys had enough, and didn't laugh any 
more, and I took a shower bath and felt that I was a physical 
man equal to any working man. That was my only all day labor 
in the field since I was a boy. 

In the early 70's an order arose among the farmers of the State 
and Union called "The Grange." The object was to benefit the 
rural population by exchanging ideas and promoting social life. 
We would come together one night in each week. I was Secretary 
of the United Granges of the county, about thirty lodges in number. 
It was a pleasant and profitable organization until it entered 
politics, and men wished to use it for the sake of office; then I 
withdrew. Soon after my return from Philadelphia in 1876, I 
was invited to make an address at a big Grange Picnic, with Judge 
Hare and Rev. Mr. Connelly. It was the "Good Old Summer 
Time," and the birds were singing, and "roasting ears were in 
bloom," and watermelons laughed at you, and I began my address 
about this way : ' 'Ladies and Gentlemen : On this beautiful morn- 
ing, in this Centennial year of the liberties of our country, I feel 
inclined to congratulate you and myself that we are here, alive, 
in the Nineteenth Century, and enjoying the blessings of good 
health. Sometimes, in poring over the legends and lore of the 
past, and admiring the genius of former greatness — while listening 
to the grand poems of Homer or Virgil or drinking in the enrap- 
turing strains of Orpheus or Circean musicians of old, while stand- 
ing overwhelmed by the eloquence of Cicero, Demosthenes or 
Caesar, we imagine that those days were graeter than these, that 
men were greater then than now, and that we are living in a degen- 
erate age; and we find ourselves sighing with regret because we 
were not among the friends of Croesus, or drank not out of the 
fountain of Parnassus, or sipped not from the ambrosial cup of 
the gods of Olympus." And I paid my respects to Venus and 
Juno, and Minerva, and Helen of Troy, and Cleopatra, and the 
Queen of Palmyra. I thought I was doing pretty well before such 
a fine audience, but when I finished and received the flattering 
applause of the audience, my father-in-law said to me, "That was 

91 



very fine, but many of those old farmers thought you were talking 
about some old women in North Carolina when you spoke about 
those godesses." That made my feathers fall somewhat. 

A few years before this the District Conference of Rev. J. M. 
Binkley's District decided to establish a female school for that 
Presiding Elders District. John Blackburne, an old North Caro- 
lina friend of mine, and a prominent merchant at Sherman, offered 
to donate several acres of land in the western part of the city for 
the purpose, and gave me power of attorney to transfer the pro- 
perty to the Methodist Church. The gift was accepted, and a 
two story frame building erected, and the Rev. Mr. Parke was elec- 
ted principal of the school. In a few years he resigned, and Prof. 
W. I. Cowles, of Virginia, succeeded him. At the next conference 
that was held at Paris, I was chairman of the committee of educa- 
tion, and we recommended that the school be chartered as a 
female college under the name of North Texas Female College. 
This recommendation was adopted. Next summer I was elected 
President of the college, and I retained Prof. Cowles in the college 
with me on equal footing with myself. At the end of the year he 
retired, and I was elected President with the power to make my 
own laws and to select my own teachers. The school was very 
successful, except financially. I had seven teachers and over 
two hundred students, and graduated nine bright charming young 
ladies. I made some additions to the building, enclosed the grounds 
with a good fence, paid all my teachers good salaries, and found 
myself at the end of the year nearly $2000 in debt. This finan- 
cial condition and some friction caused me to resign the Presidency. 

In my new home on my farm, ten miles from Sherman, my 
first boy was born on the 14th of November, 1872. There was 
rejoicing in the family and he was named James Reid after his 
father. Again there was rejoicing in the family on the 27th of 
March, 1875, when another son came to us in the same house. 
We named him Richard King after his grandfather; and still 
there was another rejoicing in our family in our home in Sherman 
on the 21st of October, 1877, when Cristopher Columbus, our 
third beautiful son joined the procession, and we named him after 
his uncle, his father's brother, who fell leading his regiment against 

92 



the breastworks at Chancellors vi lie, Virginia. Thus you will ob- 
serve that the Fourth Decade added four recruits to the family 
and increased the population for the next census. 

As I married in Grayson County, and represented the people 
in the Legislature during four sessions, and had many relatives 
and friends and acquaintances in the county, I have, since then, 
made an annual pilgrimage from my distant homes to attend the 
Old Settlers Picnic and Confederate Reunions there, to recall the 
days of the fleeting years, and keep fresh the friendship of olden 
times. So here I am in Sherman at the end of another ten years, 
and I have scattered on these pages the incidents and movements 
of the Fourth Decade, still fulfilling the prophesy of my old Presi- 
dent, of Trinity College, North Carolina, when he said, "Nothing 
will ever turn out as you have planned, if you leave college for 
the war." I will now invite you to accompany me on my travels 
as I step over the years into the Fifth Decade of My Life. 




93 



FIFTH DECADE. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

At the A. & M. College. 
One day in November, 1879, while walking along a street 
in Sherman I met J. R. Cowles, a prominent lawyer, who handed 
me a telegram received by him, and he said it was intended for 
me, instead of for him. The telegram was from Bryan, Texas, 
and read as follows: "Come here immediately and come prepared 
to stay." It was signed by Colonel Lyday, one of the Directors 
of the A. & M. College. I thought I knew the cause of the message. 
Informing my family, I seized my carpet bag, and struck out for 
the south. When I arrived at Bryan, I was informed that I had 
been elected to fill the chair of English Language, Literature, and 
History in the Agricultural & Mechanical College. This insti- 
tution had been in existence a little over three years and had an 
able faculty, but there was great discord among them, and the 
Board of Directors was appealed to to settle the difficulties. 
Governor Roberts was ex-officio President of the Board and sum- 
moned the Directors to meet in Bryan to investigate the condi- 
tions. The Board consisted of very prominent and able gentlemen 
— Governor Roberts, Lieut. Governor Pickell, Speaker of the 
House Cochran, Col. Lyday, Col. Peeler, Col. Scott and Col. De 
Morse. The faculty was summoned, one by one, to appear before 
the Board and give their evidence. There was great antagonism 
and much bitterness of feeling existing among the members of the 
faculty, and each member was asked if the College could be suc- 
cessful under the management of the present faculty, and each 
member stated that it could not. The Board then requested the 
resignation of the whole faculty. They seemed to be thunder- 
struck, for no one took any blame to himself, but evidently thought 
that the College would do well without the others. But they were 
too late, for they had condemned themselves. The President of 
the College, Mr. Gathright of Mississippi, was a fine scholar and 
experienced educator, and had been recommended to the Board 
by Jefferson Davis, ex-President of the Southern Confederacy. 
The professor whom I was chosen to succeed was General L. M. 

94 



Lewis. He was a fine looking man, elegant and graceful in his 
manners, an eminent scholar, a distinguished soldier, and eloquent 
preacher. I realized that it would be difficult for me to follow in 
his footsteps, in the midst of the session, taking up the books, the 
course of studies and the plans, chosen and established by him 
to conform to his acquirements, taste and judgement. A new 
faculty had to be elected immediately, as Governor Roberts was 
reported to have said to the Directors, "Now, gentlemen, the 
college is in session, you have accepted the resignation of the fac- 
ulty. Have you men to fill the vacated positions?" Col. Jno. 
G. James, Superintendent of a military school at Austin was 
elected President, and each Director seemed to have some one 
whom he could recommend, and when the chair of English Lan- 
guage, Literature, and History had to be filled, Col. Lyday of 
Bonham said he had a man for that place and nominated me. 
He had known me twelve years before when I was President of 
the Masonic Seminary at Bonham. Directors Pickett and Coch- 
ran had known me in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Legislatures, 
and I was elected without opposition. In the meantime, because 
of these dissentions and general dissatisfaction, about half of 
the students withdrew from the College, and there was only about 
a hundred left. Thus early in the history of the college, bad in- 
fluences prevailed, and made the College unpopular with the 
people of the State. There were some excellent gentlemen and 
finished scholars in the new faculty, and harmony prevailed, and 
good work was accomplished during the administration of Presi- 
dent James for the next three years. In the meantime new 
Directors had been appointed by Governor Ireland, who suc- 
ceeded Governor Roberts as Governor of the State, and several 
new professors had been elected to new chairs which had been 
established. My Department had been running smoothly and 
had been giving general satisfaction according to the evidence 
of the students, the patrons and the Directors. In vacation I 
had been directed by the Board to visit different parts of the 
State and deliver addresses in the interest of the College, so as 
to secure greater patronage. I spent part of one vacation visiting 
different cities in obedience to these instructions. About March, 

95 



1883, Colonel James resigned from the Presidency and established 
a bank in Wichita Falls, and I was directed to fill the place as 
temporary president until the meeting of the Directors at the 
coming commencement in the summer. For the next three 
months, I had to perform the duties of my chair, and of the 
President, and part of the time as Professor of Agriculture. I 
did not neglect the duty of any of these departments. I was 
informed by some of the students that a petition from the whole 
corps of cadets had been sent to the Directors asking them to 
elect me president at their approaching meeting. There were 
probably a dozen candidates for the place, some of them strong, 
able and experienced educators. When a prominent Director 
informed me that he intended to put me in nomination, I told him 
I was not a candidate and would willingly serve under a stronger 
and better man than myself, but I didn't wish to be placed under 
one weaker and inferior. I was elected and took charge as Presi- 
dent with full authority. After issuing the catalogue I went to 
work to spend the vacation in the interest of the College. I enclos- 
ed about a thousand acres of land belonging to the College, con- 
tracted for and had made several hundred thousand bricks to 
erect a new building for the Agricultural Department — this by 
order of the Directors; and recognizing the responsibilities on me 
and the unpopularity of the College and the difficulty of making 
a successful administration with many of the important papers 
of the State against us, I visited Galveston and Houston and 
made a personal appeal to the managers of the Galveston News 
and Texas Christian Advocate and the Houston Post. I told 
them that whatever had been the faults of former administrations, 
and whatever reasons they had for fighting the institution, that 
now I wanted them to help me to remedy whatever was amiss, 
for I could not succeed with the great papers of the State working 
against me. Every one of them cordially agreed to aid me and 
stop their warfare. I met Mr. Jenkins of the News, Mr. Jerideau 
of the Post, and Mr. Blaylock of the Advocate. I conceived 
this to be a great step in the interest of the College. I am now 
satisfied that if I had not been interfered with and my plans 

96 



set aside the college would have taken an upward and suc- 
cessful start from that day. 

When I returned to the College from Galveston and Houston 
with high hopes for the future success of the institution, I found, 
to my astonishment, the Board of Directors in session, without 
notification by me, or information to me, or consultation with 
me, or invitation to meet with them! and yet I was President of 
the College, elected by them! The Directors met and abolished 
the presidency, divided its duties and powers between two men, 
instead of leaving them with one, elected General Hardeman 
manager, with half the duties of President, and one of the 
faculty Chairman with the other half, and assigned to me my 
old chair as it was before I became President. They notified me 
that they had no dissatisfaction with my management, but simply 
wanted to organize the faculty like that of Virginia University 
and Texas University, without a President, but with a Chairman. 
General Hardeman had been a gallant soldier and performed his 
duties as well as he was allowed to do. There were five mem- 
bers of the Directors present, three of them newly appointed 
by Governor Ireland, three of them, in favor of this action, and 
two against it. Judge Thomas of Bryan, resigned as President 
of the Board, assigning to me as the reason, that he would not 
have anything further to do with them, nor be in any way re- 
sponsible for their actions. 

While Governor Roberts was Governor, he visited the College 
and was entertained at my house by my family. He asked me 
on one of these occasions to take a walk with him, and, while 
walking by ourselves he told me he was having difficulties with 
some of the faculty at the Sam Houston Normal College at Hunts- 
ville and wished me to help him out. 

After a lengthy talk he left me with the understanding that 
he wished me to leave the A. & M. College and accept the Presi- 
dency of the Normal school. I gave him no answer at the time, as 
I was satisfied with the position I then had at the College. Later, 
I wrote to him stating that I preferred to remain where I then was 
and therefore declined going to the Normal College. During the 
administration of Governor Ireland, I visited Austin while the 

97 



Legislature was in session, to meet many old friends and, espec- 
ially, a brother-in-law who was a member from Grayson County. 
As the Governor was an ex-officio member of the Board of Direc- 
tors, and I had met him at our commencements, I called at his 
office to see him and discuss the College interests. After the visit 
he requested me to call again before returning to the College, as 
he wished to consult me concerning matters there. I did call, and 
he asked me about the propriety of certain appointments which 
he had to make. I mention these trivial things, because one of 
the directors who was not friendly to me, said the Governor never 
invited me to call on him; he was simply talking through ignorance. 

Two years passed and my work gave such satisfaction that 
no fault could be found; but I knew that some of the directors 
were unfriendly and that I was in somebody's way. About 
this time Bishop McTyeire of Nashville, Tennesee offered me 
the presidency of a College in Kentucky, a very flattering offer, 
but my interests and my people and my wife's people were all 
in Texas, so I felt that I ought not to leave the state where I 
had lived so many years, and I declined the kind offer of the 
Bishop. I also received a* communication from the Mayor of 
Abilene requesting me to visit that city and was offered the 
superintendency of the public schools there. I resigned my 
position in the A. & M. College and accepted the Abilene super- 
idtendency. Several years after this, I met Ex-Governor Roberts 
in Dallas, and he told me that I ought never to have left the 
College. He didn't understand the situation, but I told him he 
must hold the directors responsible for my leaving and not me. 
And thus I left the A. & M. College, after six years of hard 
labor, but pleasant, for I believe that nearly every cadet in the 
College was my friend, and I had many friends in the little city of 
Bryan. 

Two incidents happened in my family while I lived at College. 

While the cannons were booming in the campus, celebrating 
the 21st of April, in honor of San Jacinto Day, Katie Cole, a 
sweet daughter, came into my family in the year 1880, and she 
always claimed the cannons were booming a welcome to her. And 

98 



again, on the 28th of February, 1883, William Robert, Bob, was 
added to my family, and he was "a joy forever" until he suddenly 
left us eight years afterwards. 




W 



CHAPTER XV. 

Abilene. 
I received a letter in the summer of 1885, from Judge Kirk- 
land, Mayor of Abilene, Texas, asking me to come to that city as 
he wished to see me about their public schools. They were looking 
for a superintendent. I went to Abilene immediately after my 
resignation at College. I met the Mayor and City Council who 
had charge of public school affairs. They were fine business men, 
and the mayor, Judge Kirkland, was an elegant gentleman and 
eminent lawyer. He said there was great confusion and dissatis- 
faction about the schools; the town was divided half and half by 
the railroad, and there were two school buildings, one on either 
side, and so much jealousy existed that the schools had been a 
failure and it was difficult to harmonize. They offered to turn 
the whole matter over to me to organize, and manage, and select 
teachers, and pay them what I pleased, to make all rules and 
regulations, select course of study, assign teachers to their grades 
and work and receive for my compensation all the money due or 
to come from the State, and they asked if I would accept the 
proposition. All they asked of me was to give them good schools. 
I said if they would give me all the power they suggested, that I 
would accept. So it was arranged in twenty-four hours after my 
arrival. 

Abilene was a beautiful little city of four or five thousand in- 
habitants. It was in a high healthy country about two thousand 
feet above the gulf. I moved my family in August, 1885. Abilene, 
at this date, was considered to be on the frontier and, therefore 
wild, and the home of the cowboy. The T. & P. Railroad ran 
through from the east, westward to California. The land was rich, 
but cultivated to a great extent by the prairie dog, who sat upon 
his little hill and, on the appearance of a stranger, turned a somer- 
sault into the hole he had dug in the ground. The population 
was scarce and the country was a cattle country and full of ranches. 
The people were a fine class in their freedom and cordial in their 
intercourse with each other. 



100 



I selected principals for the two school buildings, and six other 
teachers and established eight grades in each school, then nine, 
and finally ten, as the classes progressed, and the school was so 
well organized and went forward so smoothly that many people 
didn't see any necessity for a superintendent who didn't do any 
of the teaching. They forgot that the superintendent was driving 
the team and made the wagon to run smoothly. At the end of 
the first year the mayor asked me if. I was willing to continue as 
superintendent on the same terms, saying that I had given them 
entire satisfaction. So I continued four years, increasing in teach- 
ers and students and buildings as the town grew, and they were 
pleasant years, and we had many friends, and we bought lots and 
built a comfortable home. I bought a farm of 320 acres four mile® 
from the town — made one splendid crop, one fair crop, and two 
failures. A great drought, lasting more than a year, was the cause- 
of the failures. Our social and church life was pleasant, and my 
friends included Col. Holt, Judge Cockrell and his sons and daugh- 
ters, Judge Spoonts, Judge Kirkland, Dr. Bass, Dr. Barry, General 
Sayles, Judge Leggit and many others. My two principals in the 
schools, Judge Savage and Prof. Roach, were fine teachers and 
pleasant gentlemen. I joined the Masons and the Knights of 
Pythias and spent many pleasant nights in the lodges. 

I told you that Abilene and the western country was in the 
frontier at that early day and had a reputation that generally 
went with the western ranch and the cowboy. On one occasion, 
a man from Massachusetts, adorned with the civilization of the 
east, just fron New England, was traveling through the country, 
and had his eyes opened, and wanted to see the sights in the wild 
west, about which he had heard and read so much. So one even- 
ing after the sun had disappeared, and the twilight was fading 
into darkness, he hunted the city marshal and asked him to ac- 
company him to the forbidden places and dangerous corners, and 
show him the red pictures of the wild west. The Marshal told 
him that there were no such places, that all was peace and quiet 
and order, and everything was respectable and lovely. The New 
Englander laughed at him and said, "What are you giving me — 
don't I know that I am in Texas, and west Texas at that? Show 

101 



me the sights?" "Very well," said the Marshal, "Come with me 
and I will show you all the sights in our town." It was Monday 
night and they went first to one saloon and then to another, and 
saw nobody but the saloon keeper swinging his feet from the coun- 
ter. They went to the houses that had been disorderly, and not 
a man or woman was to be seen. They went to the dens of gam- 
bling as formerly conducted, and all was quiet and respectable. 
Then the man from Massachusetts could contain himself no longer, 
but exclaimed/Tn the name of Bunker Hill Monument, where are 
all the men of the town?" And the Marshal said, "They are at 
Prayer Meeting," and then the Bunker Hill man roared with 
laughter, "At Prayer Meeting on Monday night in West Texas!" 
"Come with me and I will show you," said the Marshal. So they 
went to the Methodist Church and, as good luck would have it, 
there were about a hundred men singing and praying and giving 
their experience. The man from the east turned to the Marshal 
and said, "You may go, I am going to stay here. This is the big- 
gest sight I ever saw!" The secret of the whole matter was that 
the Rev. Abe Mulkey had been holding a great religious meeting 
for two or three weeks and had turned the town upside down, 
until everybody was happy and shouting. The gentleman that 
was looking for sights in the west carried back with him more 
wonderful sights than he had ever thought of. 

Another gentleman from Boston visited Texas about 'this time 
to gratify his curiosity about a people famed among the wild 
western scenes for lawlessness, shooting, killing and murder. To 
pay his expenses he bought a trunk full of six shooters as the most 
popular merchandise in the State, and he was astonished and in- 
dignant to find that it was a penitentiary offense to carry a six 
shooter. 

The same good fortune that had overtaken me at our first 
home with my father-in-law, and followed me into my own country 
home, and again at Sherman, and then at the A. & M. College, 
still pursued me in the land of the setting sun, and my little girl 
Nora came into our home on the 23rd of December, 1886; and 
again, on the 11th of April, 1889, my last gift to Texas, in the 

102 



person of Mr. Frank Parrish, now a fine looking man of Dallas, 
Texas, came like a sunbeam to our family. 

I will not bother you any more by calling your attention to 
these incidents of life but may record where they followed the 
example of their father in taking some beautiful girl away from 
her home with a bold promise to make her happy and adorn her 
table with flowers and pancakes and buttermilk and other con- 
siderations. 

Once every year I gathered up my family and climbed upon 
the coach on the Texas & Pacific and went to the east, over 200 
miles, to see my "wife's relations," and we always had a delightful 
time. As my profession was that of an educator, I made it a study 
how to please, how to instruct, how to fill the minds and hearts 
of my family and students with ideas and thoughts to produce 
the best results in manhood and womanhood, to make pure, mod- 
est, noble women and brave honest men and, not only to present 
the great thoughts of former generations, as handed down to us 
in libraries, but to get nearer to their hearts by little devices and 
fancies not gathered elsewhere, but original. One plan was as 
follows: In my family were two of my teachers, fine accomplished 
ladies, Miss Mary Miller and Miss Jennie Estill. Miss Sallie 
King, my wife's sister, and Miss Annie Miller, two young ladies 
about twelve years old were with us also. These, with my own 
family, made a lively and happy gathering. I bought a large 
blank book like the daybooks generally used in mercantile estab- 
lishments, and the days and weeks were assigned to these various 
parties, including my wife and myself and all the boys and girls 
old enough to write and, at night, they had to write up the events 
of the day, what they had seen or heard or did or thought. Each 
one had his or her day. At the end of the week, we gathered 
around the fireside and the history of the week, as written by the 
various authors, was read. You may be sure that many funny 
and interesting things were recorded. We have two large books 
filled with the reports of the youthful reporters. This makes chil- 
dren love and take interest in their home and each other, and dis- 
criminate between the good and the bad. 

103 



Now the years have been rolling on and I am about to bring 
to an end another Decade and I haven't told half the things that 
happened, for some people wouldn't like to hear what I might say 
about them. I had spent four pleasant years in Abilene, profit- 
able in finances, in friendship, and in contentment. My children 
were growing and the future was looming up before them. I 
received a petition from about twenty or thirty men in Dallas, 
making me an offer to establish a private school in that city, guar- 
anteeing a salary of $3,000. I met them and found them respons- 
ible and pleasant gentlemen. I accepted their offer, believing 
a large city would furnish better opportunities to keep my children 
in business without scattering over the land for a future living, 
than a small place would. We left Abilene in August, 1889, near 
the winding up of the Fifth Decade and, with my numerous family, 
set out for the boundary of the Sixth Decade. 




104 



THE SIXTH DECADE. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Dallas. 

Now a new life opened before me — a life in the city. All of 
my family, old enough, joined the First Methodist Church, and 
the second year I was made a steward, and have held that office 
in the church ever since. The school opened in the fall of 1889, 
and, from the beginning, was prosperous, and finally I could take 
no more students, notwithstanding my charges were almost double 
the ordinary charges of private schools. After a while I bought 
lots and built houses and the school obtained a reputation that 
brought students from different parts of the State, and Indian 
Territory, and New Mexico. I had teachers of Spanish, Elocution, 
Commerce, Music, Physical Culture, besides the ordinary academic 
course. After a few years I converted the school into a military 
school and added military studies and drills, with uniforms and 
guns. I changed the name to "Cole's Classical and Military 
School." Through the recommendation of Col. Scott Shipp, 
superintendent of the Virginia Military Institute, I secured the 
services of Captain E. P. R. Duval of Virginia as Commandant 
and Professor of Mathematics. He was with me three years and 
gave eminent satisfaction. After thirteen years of teaching and 
managing, my health not being very good, I became tired of the 
school room and its monotonous life and leased the building to 
Prof. Jno. B. Dodson for three years, after which time I converted 
the building into a residence for rental purposes. 

In 1890, the summer after our removal to Dallas, my two 
daughters, May and Ella and myself attended the State Education- 
al Convention at Galveston, and greatly enjoyed the roaring of 
the Gulf, and its rolling billows, and the bathing among the white 
capped waves. The sea had always a fascination for me, ever 
since I was stationed as a soldier in Fort Macon on an island in 
the Atlantic the first year of the war. I here met many distin- 
guished educators of the State, and we made our arrangements 
to join a party to attend the National Educational Convention 
which was to be held at St. Paul, Minnesota. Returning home, 

105 



we made ourselves ready arid joined our party at Texarkana and, 
under a railroad manager in a special coach, we made a fine journey 
with a pleasant company, stopping at St. Louis, Chicago, Mil- 
waukee and Madison, and arrived at St. Paul on the 4th of July 
in the midst of flags and parades and oratory. We met the great 
scholars of the nation at the convention, and visited several fine 
fashionable resorts and watering places on the lakes. After a 
week's stay I procured a change of routes from the railroad offi- 
cials, and instead of returning home by the same way, according 
to our tickets, we went northward through Minneapolis until we 
reached Duluth, on the extreme western border of Lake Superior, 
the city immortalized by the wit of Proctor Knott. While travel- 
ing toward Duluth, I had occasion to find out the reputation of 
Texas, my beloved State. I was sitting in the crowded coach as 
we went whirling along and, by my side, was an intelligent gen- 
tleman about fifty years of age. Of course, we talked and exchang- 
ed ideas and I was sure I had made a good impression, as I was 
as pleasant as could be, and he seemed to be pleased, and finally 
he asked me where I was from. He evidently thought I was from 
Boston, New York or Philadelphia. I told him I was from Texas. 
His countenance changed, he thrust his head out of the window 
and cried out, 'Ts there a vacant seat back there?" And he 
quickly arose and hurried to the rear for a better seat or better 
company. I was under the impression that Texas, with its great 
history, was a charmed name, but this Northwesterner evidently 
had another opinion. 

About midnight, amid thunder and lightning and wind and 
rain, my daughters and I boarded a steamer for a long journey 
over all the lakes to Buffalo, New York. As we left Duluth we 
looked back through the darkness and saw a panorama of thous- 
ands of lights in long rows, one above another, from the foot to 
the top of a great towering hill or mountain so steep and high that, 
in many places, only pedestrians could climb. It was a beautiful 
sight. We passed the entire length of the great lake, probably 
600 miles long, into and through the locks and rapids of South 
St. Marie into Lake Huron, thence to the great beautiful city of 
Detroit, as the setting sun cast its yellow rays over the gently 

106 



rippling waves, presenting such a scene of beauty of land and water, 
and sky, and floating clouds, as brought joy and peace to the 
beating heart. Through Detroit River into Lake St. Claire, and 
through that lake into St. Claire River, and up into the waters of 
Lake Erie we passed, stopping all along the route at many cities 
and towns until, after a week's voyage, we arrived at Buffalo. 
During the week we had .many pleasant passengers, and an ex- 
cellent table fare, and music, both instrumental and vocal. There 
was a quartette of negroes who sang at night for us, and I noticed 
they had songs suited to the sentiments of the north and none 
that we were used to in the south. There was nothing of "My Old 
Kentucky Home" nor "Swahee River," nor "Old Black Joe," 
nor "I am Gwine Back to Dixie," nor "Massa in the Cold, Cold 
Ground." One gentleman, seeing the crowd I was with, said to 
me, "You are not from the South are you?" I told him I was a 
southern man and lived in Texas. He said, "I would suppose by 
your conversation and manners that you were a northern man." 
He evidently thought he was paying me a great compliment ; but 
as I thought no language or manners were superior to those of 
the south, I did not at all feel flattered by his opinion. When we 
w r ere on Lake Superior or Lake Huron, I remembered that I had 
a nephew living in New York with his family, and, on the spur of 
the moment I wrote a note to him and dropped it in the mail, like 
a dove sent out of the ark. In the note I told him I and my daugh- 
ters would go down the Hudson River and land in New York on 
a certain day. I was a thousand miles from that city and it would 
be a week before the day mentioned, but it was like a wireless 
telegram, it might light right or it might not. When we arrived 
at Buffalo, we took a run down the banks of the Niagara River 
to the great Falls. We crossed over to the Canada side and viewed 
this wonder of nature as the sun was casting its rays from the 
west, and its golden glory playing in the midst of the thundering 
waters; it was a most beautiful sight. After a while I asked my 
oldest daughter what she thought of it, and she replied, "I can't 
say anything." We visited the rapids and the Whirlpool, and 
went down under the falling waters. Returning to Buffalo, we 
passed across the State to Albany, and visited the great capital 

107 



building and then took a steamer down the Hudson by West 
Point, taking in all the fine scenery of that famed river. There 
were probably five hundred passengers on the steamer and we had 
checked our baggage to a hotel, and landed on the wharf to be 
carried to our destination. As we passed along, both of my daugh- 
ters swinging to my arms, a man tapped me on the shoulder. I 
turned and looked at him and saw a man about thirty years of 
age, with a dark mustache and slender form and pleasant face. I 
had never seen him before. He .said, "Are you from Texas?" I 
told him I was. He said, "Is your name Cole?" I replied that was 
my name. I didn't know what I had done to be arrested for. He 
then said, "I am William Cole, your nephew." I had entirely 
forgotten about the little leaflet I sent flying through the air. I 
was delighted to see him and his family. His wife and two pretty 
boys came forward and greeted us cordially. They had come from 
their home four miles away in Brooklyn to meet us and we must 
go and stay with them all the time we were in the city. I won- 
dered how he knew us as we were all strangers. He was from the 
South before he moved to New York. Did he recognize southern 
appearance and southern manners? He said he saw a man with 
two ladies swinging to his arms and knew I had my daughters 
with me, so he made a guess. Four days we remained with them — 
delightful days spent visiting the sights — "Liberty Enlightening 
the World," Central Park and its attractions, Coney Island on 
the Sound, and some of the famous mercantile establishments. 
On Sunday I wished to attend services at the "Church of the 
Strangers," to hear the famous Dr. Deems, whom I knew twenty 
years before when he was president of the female college in Greens- 
boro, North Carolina, where I lived, but he was out of town. He 
had doneme the honor, several years before this, to have me elected 
a member of "The Society of Christian Philosophy," whose head- 
quarters was in New York. Since he was out of town I wished 
to hear Dr. Talmage, whom I listened to with delight at Trinity 
College, North Carolina, in 1876, but he was taking his vacation, 
and so was Henry Ward Beecher, whom I saw at the Philadelphia 
Centennial. So my nephew carried us to see a magnificent Catholic 
Church where he and his family worshipped, for they were Catho- 

108 



lies. Since that time two others of my daughters and three of 
my sons have visited New York and have been entertained by 
our good relatives of that city. It is delightful for relatives, 
whether at home or near by, or far away, to respect and honor 
and love their kindred, and whenever any of them have not these 
sentiments, it comes from a streak of bad luck not related to the 
original stock. With happy recollections of our stay in New York, 
we continued the circle of our journey until we arrived at Wash- 
ington City. We stopped here for several days, under the guidance 
and kind attention of our Texas Congressman, Hon. Jo Abbott, 
with whom I served in the Texas Legislature twenty years before, 
w r e visited the interesting places of our Capital City, went to the 
top of the Washington Monument, and called at the Smithsonian 
Institute and saw some of the wonders gathered there. We were 
introduced to General Ransom, then United States Senator from 
North Carolina and, as I w T as well acquainted with his history as 
a soldier and statesman, and as he knew my family and had heard 
of me as a soldier, he was very attentive to us and made my daugh- 
ters to understand the cordial feelings of North Carolinians toward 
one another. He carried us over the capital building and intro- 
duced us to some of the great men of the government. As we were 
climbing up the dome of the capitol, we met a lady coming down, 
and was surprised to meet a Dallas acquaintance, Miss Mary Cole, 
no relative but bearing a good name. We wanted to visit Mount. 
Vernon and Judge Abbott insisted on our remaining in the city 
one day longer, and he would go with us down the Potomac, but 
I had written to relatives in North Carolina informing them what 
day we would arrive at their station, and we had to hurry forward 
to keep that appointment. We took the train for Richmond, via 
Fredericksburg, and as we passed the battlefield of that name, I 
pointed out to my daughters where my brother and I, with our 
regiments, fought all the long day of the 13th of December, 1862, 
nearly thirty years ago. We didn't tarry in Richmond, though 
it was so full of memories, but went on via Petersburg on our way 
to Weldon, North Carolina, where we were to change cars in the 
direction of Raleigh. And now occurred two or three things that 
every one will think remarkable. I asked the conductor after we 

109 



left Petersburg if we would connect with the train at Weldon 
going into Raleigh. He said we would if we were not an hour 
behind time. I expressed my disappointment and told him that 
my daughters and I were far away from our home in Texas, and 
this was the first time they were visiting the home of their father, 
for I was a native of North Carolina, and had an appointment 
to meet some of my people that day. He moved on and soon I 
noticed that our train was going very fast, and the conductor 
came in and told me that he had increased the speed of the train 
to make up time, and had telegraphed to Weldon to hold the 
Raleigh train for passengers ! Did you ever hear of anything like 
that from any railroad official? Would any railroad out of Vir- 
ginia and North Carolina do such thing? The conductor told me 
to put the ladies aboard at Weldon and he would attend to our 
baggage. When we arrived at Weldon the other train was waiting 
and the windows were full of curious people, wondering what re- 
markable passengers were coming. That was the first time I ever 
felt that I was a big man. Now, another characteristic of the 
"Good Old North State" was observed by my daughters, and I 
was delighted that they should observe the great qualities of my 
old home people, for they were Texans and had never crossed the 
Mississippi River before. In conversation with a gentleman on 
the train, I informed him that I was a native of North Carolina 
and served through the war in the North Carolina troops, but had 
been living in Texas for many years. I told him I had met Senator 
Ransom in Washington; he pointed to a young man and young 
lady and an elderly lady in the other end of the coach and said 
they were the wife and daughter and son of the Senator. He in- 
formed them about our conversation and the young man came 
and said his mother wanted to see us. She was very friendly to 
us, and said they were on their way to a summer resort in the 
mountains and invited us to join them as their guests. When I 
had told her I had engagements that would prevent our accepting 
her invitation, she said if I would write and inform her when I 
could come she would send her carriage to the depot for us. It was 
only twenty miles! That was indeed hospitality and kindness. 
We met a beautiful young lady at the depot waiting for us — Maggie 

110 



Jenkins, the granddaughter of my brother who commanded a 
cavalry company at New Berne in 1862. We also met my brother's 
wife who, before marriage, was a Miss Webb, a relative of my old 
acquaintance, Rutherford B. Hayes of Ohio. The young lady that 
met us at the depot came to Texas and spent a year with my family, 
and there hangs in my library a fine oil painting of myself, life size, 
painted by her from a photograph, and brought from her home 
in North Carolina. We continued our journey westward to our 
old home in Greensboro where we remained several days. Though 
the passing years had thinned out the number of my friends 
there were many left, and they gave us the Carolina welcome, 
taking my daughters away from the hotel and making them feel 
happy in the homes of the friends of their father. Twenty-four 
years had passed into the by-gone ages since I left the old home- 
stead for the West. We continued our journey with our faces now 
turned toward Texas, through the mountains, through east Ten- 
nessee, down into Mississippi. In the First Decade I told you of 
a sister of mine who, with her husband and children, had formed 
a caravan of wagons and moved to Mississippi is 1844. I had not 
seen any of the family since that time. On this journey I wrote 
to them that I would make them a visit as I passed on to my 
Texas home. We found them on their farm about six miles from 
the railroad, and as we drove up to the gate a man with gray hair 
and long gray whiskers, and a lady with the impress of seventy 
years on her face, came down the walk to meet us, and she clasped 
my daughters in her arms as she fixed her eyes on me, as though 
to recall the face of the four-year-old brother of 1844. And thus 
I met my sister after forty-six years of separation, and her husband 
Alfred Reeves. We passed on to Jackson and ran out to Forest 
to see a family, formerly of Texas but now in their native State, 
the family of Captain Womack. His two daughters were students 
of mine in the North Texas Female College in Sherman, and I 
regarded his family, father, mother, and two daughters, as among 
the best friends I ever had. Then westward through Vicksburg, of 
melancholy association, and arrived home after six weeks of travel 
in a great circle of thousands of miles and a great circle of years 



111 



in memory, without a mishap, and without a Disconnection, and 
without a mistreatment by anybody anywhere. 

On October 19, 1891, the first great sorrow invaded my family. 
My son Bob, eight years and seven months old, fell out of a tree 
in our back yard, and died in a few hours. He was the prettiest, 
brightest, and best boy I ever knew. I have left a record of his 
life and character in another volume and will not now uncover the 
sad memory of that date. 

On January 3rd, 1893, my eldest daughter May, was married 
to Dr. Wm. Deatherage of Grayson County, and moved to Dallas 
a few years afterwards, where they and their two children, William 
and Grace now live, a happy family. 

On the 17th of July, 1894, another one of my daughters, Ella, 
was married to Walter Reid of Dallas, and they, with their six 
beautiful children, live within a stones throw of my residence. 
In 1892, my eldest son, J. R. Jr., and my oldest daughters, accom- 
panied me to the great reunion of Confederate Veterans at New 
Orleans. This was the first reunion I ever attended, and it made 
a profound impression on me to see and greet the great warriors 
with whom and under whom I served in a great war more than 
thirty years-before. There was Gordon, and Longstreet, and Early, 
and Kirby Smith, and many others and there was Mrs. 
Jefferson Davis, and beautiful ^Vinnie, and from all southern 
States lovely daughters who had come up through the years since 
the cannons roared over the land in defense of our States. 

In 1893, I attended the Columbian Exposition at Chicago with 
my wife, my daughter Ella, and my son King. Jim and Lum 
attended later. I regarded these exhibitions as an evidence of 
the works and movements of the world and filling a large place 
in the curriculum of the students. 

In 1896, I attended the Reunion of Confederates at Richmond, 
Virginia, with my wife and son, King, and Katie. I saw the 
familiar places of the scenes of my young manhood, when the tramp 
of the multitude was heard along the streets, and the boom of the 
cannon swelled along the banks of the Chickahominy. I saw the 
faces and heard the voices of Hampton, and Buckner, and Gordon, 
and recalled the times when their heads were not gray and their 

112 



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voices sounded clear and strong over the battlefield. I saw the 
monument of Jefferson Davis and tomb of Stuart. We took 
passage on a boat down James River, on whose banks a man had 
died for every square yard and about whose waters an army of 
ghosts, if there are any ghosts, hover in battalions to this day. 
My memory recalled the times when John Smith and Pocahontas 
went hunting together, when Powhattan wanted Smith's head, 
and Pocahontas spread out her red arms and said "you can't 
have his head unless you take mine," or words to that effect. 
Possessed of the sentiments and feelings that come down the ages, 
I repeated a quotation from Homer, where the goddess sent the 
great serpent winding and twisting and buffeting the waves with 
its sinuous body to seize Laocoon in its crushing embrace, because 
he was attempting to thwart her purpose about the wooden horse, 
and, to my astonishment, a man, sitting with a group close by, 
roughly dressed, a cow man from Colorado, took up the quotation 
and went on with the lines of Homer to the great delight of the 
crowd. With my head full of Grant and McClellan, and Lee, and 
Johnston, and John Smith, and Pocahontas, and Minerva, and 
and the scaley serpent, you will acknowledge the voyage on the 
James was enough to occupy one chair of my memory for some 
time. A nephew of mine came two hundred miles from his home in 
in Granville County, N. C, and we spent several days with his fine 
family; this was Frank Cole, brother of William Cole of New York. 
Our visit to Greensboro was short, but long enough to see, and 
receive a happy greeting from many of my old time friends. 

I attended, in the course of the years, several Reunions, always 
with members of my family, and as a member of the staff of 
General Wm. L. Cabell of Dallas. General Cabell was a native 
of Danville, Virginia, a General in the Confederate army, a Lieut. 
General commanding the Trans-Mississippi Department of Con- 
federate veterans, and two of my daughters, Katie and Nora, at 
different Reunions, were sponsors, for his department and accom- 
panied him and his accomplished daughter, Mrs. Katie Cabell 
Muse. He was a gallant soldier, a patriotic citizen, and a good man. 

On January 21st, 1896, my eldest son James Reid, was married 
to Mamie Rosebud Buck of Arkansas, a beautiful young woman, 

113 



who died in a few years, leaving him a promising son. He after- 
wards married a fine christian lady, Mrs. Bentley of Oklahoma 
City. He was a practicing lawyer, and entered into business in 
coal mining with his brother Lum in Tulsa, Indian Territory. As 
a boy he was adventurous, full of fun, good natured but quick to 
resent a slight or insult, and was liked and respected accordingly, 
but in after years he became an enthusiastic lover of his church, 
a popular superintendent of the Sunday School, and an active 
steward, trustee and church builder. My oldest son was edu- 
cated at the A. & M. College of Texas, my next oldest at Vander- 
bilt, and my next at the University of Texas, and my youngest 
in Dallas, Texas. Two of my daughters were educated at home, 
one at St. Mary's, and the youngest at Staunton, Virginia. Now, 
having educated all my children, and married one son and two 
daughters off, and having seen them well situated for future life 
and usefulness, I will bring this the Sixth Decade, to a close, while 
the Spaniards are leaving North America, and Hobson is sinking 
the Merimac, and Dewey is destroying the fleet at Manilla and 
Schley is gaining "Glory enough for all" at Santiago. So the De- 
cade goes out with but one cloud and we are still marching to the 
sunset. 




^ 



114 



THE SEVENTH DECADE. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Louisville and Lexington, Va. 

I am sitting in my library to-night in my Texas home with 
members of my family around me — my wife, my youngest daughter, 
my youngest son, and my son, of whom I will speak directly, my 
son King. The stars have disappeared in the heavens behind 
black clouds, the rain is falling fast and the electric lights show 
automobiles rushing along the streets flooded with the falling 
waters. I am trying to recall the events of the Seventh Decade 
of my life. 

Hanging on the wall is a large picture, painted in Boston, of 
a beautiful young woman of twenty-two years. By the skill of 
the artist her eyes seem to follow me in my walks around the room. 
Turning from the picture, I see a woman of sixty, quietly reading. 
She is a noble woman, with an expressive face, and is the mother 
of nine children, who never gave her a single heart-ache except 
when misfortune overtook them. She is the same beautiful woman 
of forty years ago, whose picture hangs on the wall. 

In 1902, I attended the commencement exercises of the Uni- 
versity of Texas and witnessed the graduation of my son Lum. I 
dined with President Winston and Professor Simonds, both of 
whom were North Carolinians and from her State University at 
Chapel Hill. After our return home, my son and I took the Texas 
& Pacific train and crossed the western plains of the State to attend 
an Educational Convention at El Paso. There were thousands 
of teachers and visitors in the city, learned men and beautiful 
women. Judge Bell, an eminent lawyer, gave us a warm welcome 
in an eloquent address and I was called upon to reply to him. The 
city is a beautiful place, high up among the hills and mountains. 
We crossed over the Rio Grande into Juarez of the Republic of 
Mexico, and saw something of Mexican taste and curiosities and 
evidences of their peculiar civilization. One of these was a bull 
fight, prepared especially for the uncivilized Americans visiting 
from the East. We took the train northward for Cloudcroft among 
the clouds. We wound around the mountains and across the val- 

115 



leys, up and still up, climbing higher and still higher, until we were 
on top and could go no further, unless we climbed the great pine 
trees, and leaped off into the clouds. It was a funny feeling pro- 
duced when we couldn't see anything above and around us, but 
clouds, and skies, and distance. The mountain is 9,000 feet high 
with a nice little town on top — a nice summer resort. 

In the summer of 1904, I took my family, then living with me, 
and visited the World's Fair at St. Louis, and viewed the wonders 
of the nations, all that we could see and hear in a week's time. 
Victoria's Jewels, great inventions and products, representatives 
of all the races in the world, encampment of Philippinos, men and 
women, with their customs and habits and dress. Saw the South 
African regiment of Boers with their great general at their head, 
presenting a sham battle similar to and representing one of the 
fiercest conflicts in the South African War. I called on General 
Cronje, the noted commander of the native forces, and had a very 
interesting conversation with him. I didn't realize, until too late, 
that he was of dutch origin and didn't speak any language except 
Dutch. He had an officer, however, to interpret for him. I told 
him I had read and heard a great deal about his wars for his country. 
And he said, "Ya! Ya!" I said his deeds and exploits were the 
admiration of all Americans and he said, "Ya! Ya!" I told him 
I had been a soldier myself, and had fought under our great Gen. 
Lee. And he exclaimed, "Ya! Ya!" I said I was delighted to 
meet him and felt myself highly honored to become acquainted 
with a warrior that had filled the world with his fame, and his 
answer was, "Ya! Ya!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore." 

I made a second visit to the Fair with my son Lum at the re- 
quest of Governor Garvin of Rhode Island, as I have told in a former 
chapter. During this visit my son led me a lively life. We climbed 
the highest buildings, swung around on the Ferris wheel, visited 
many shows, climbed into the Alps, dived down into subterranean 
caves, crawled over the Scenic Railway, which brought groans and 
exclamations from me and laughter from him; but it was the visit 
to the Alps that brought upon me my greatest misfortune and 
humiliation. We had climbed up to the top of the great mountain 
and looked down into the valley many hundred feet below appar- 

116 



ently, and no way appeared for our descent except by sliding down 
a steep banister about six inches wide and very smooth, on which 
we were expected to sit and slide, and after starting there was no 
stopping, but traveling faster and faster, until we landed on the 
pavement below. It looked like a dangerous adventure but I 
saw men and ladies sail down the mountain and were safely caught 
at the end of the journey by a man stationed for the purpose. 
My son having gone down, there was nothing for me to do but to 
spread my wings and slide down the great mountain. To show 
how unconcerned I was I thrust my feet out in front along the 
banisters and, waving my umbrella I went down the steep in- 
cline as though I was on an ice floe of the Alps, and, supposing 
the man below would catch me, I took no precaution against a 
fall, but flew out about five feet from the end of the banister, and 
came down flat on the pavement with a great jolt and a hard 
bump. Then I was mad and said to the man, "Why didn't you 
catch me?" He said he did try, and I said, "If I had been a woman 
you would have caught me all right." In the meantime my son 
had rushed up to see how badly I was hurt, and when he saw it 
was only a big jolt, he nearly fell over with laughter, and I caught 
him laughing, time and again, all the way home. He hasn't stopped 
it yet. I attended Governor Garvin's banquet as his guest and 
my son and I witnessed the great play of Ben Hur, and I got even 
with him on our way home. We were seated in the coach and, as 
we wanted to have as much room for sleeping during the night 
as possible, as we had no sleepers, he gave his seat by me to a lady 
and took one by himself and settled down to have a pleasant sleep. 
After a while a woman and her daughter and baby entered the 
car and took a seat by him, and there was no more sleep for him 
during the night, which was a proper punishment for his laughing 
at his father. 

During the last twenty years I have been a member of "Camp 
Sterling Price, United Confederate Veterans," in Dallas. I have 
had the honor to be their historian for many years. These veterans 
were in the storms of the 60's and have braved the storms of the 
decades since then. They were unconquerable when young and 
still hold for the faith and principles for which they fought. They 

117 



were numbered by thousands years ago; they now are numbered 
by the hundreds. Call the roll and you will hear the names of 
General Cabell, General Gano, General Graber, Col. Thruston, 
Col. Lowrance, Col. Belo, Col. Crawford, Capt. Gaston, Col. 
Simpson, Judge Watts, Major Wathen, Col. Whitehead, Col. 
Parks, and a thousand private soldiers who carried victory on 
their bayonets for four years. Some of these have passed on and 
do not answer the roll call. 

In 1905, I attended the Confederate Reunion at Louisville, 
Kentucky, as a member of General Cabell's staff, and my daughter 
Katie was with us as sponser for the Trans-Mississippi Depart- 
ment. We met General Stephen D. Lee, General Buckner, and 
other distinguished warriors and spent several days among old 
comrades and young sons and daughters of the Confederacy. 
There was much pleasure, wit, music and speeches and parades. 
From Louisville, Katie and I took the train eastward through the 
mountains of Kentucky and West Virginia, a rough but pictur- 
esque country, to Staunton, Virginia, where we were entertained 
at the Virginia Female Institute by Miss Duval and sister. This 
is the Institute where my little girl Nora had received a part of 
her education. I visited Lexington and saw a fine marble statue 
of Lee and his tomb, and that of his wife, and Washington Uni- 
versity, of which General Lee was president when he died. I 
visited the cemetery, and saw the statue of Stonewall Jackson and 
stood at the foot of his grave. I saw the buildings of the Virginia 
Military Institute and the monument of the brave boys who 
fell in the battle of Newmarket under Breckenridge, and wit- 
nessed a sham battle by the cadets of the Institute. 

We went to Danville, Virginia, to visit our cousins, Dr. H. W. 
Cole and his sons. Here we met three of my classmates in college, 
and were delightfully entertained. Then we paid a visit to my 
old home again, Greensboro, North Carolina. I thought that this 
visit would in all probability be the last time I would ever see the 
familiar places and faces of my boyhood. After supper at the 
Guilford Hotel, we walked about the streets, and I pointed out 
interesting places to my daughter. We passed my old home and 
Edgeworth Female Seminary where so many beautiful girls were 

118 



wont to promenade, where I knew a beautiful and lovely lady who 
linked her name with a sad but heroic event in the history of our 
country, for in after years she was the mother of Worth Bagley, 
the first martyr in the Spanish war. We met Colonel Morehead, 
with whom I served in the Guilford Grays at Fort Macon in the 
Atlantic. I said, "How are you, Colonel Morehead?" He stopped 
and shook hands, but, of course, didn't know me. I said, "I am 
Jim Cole.' 1 He replied, "Not Texas Jim Cole?" I said yes, and 
told Katie to tell him who I was. He expressed great pleasure at 
meeting me. We were raised within a hundred yards of each other. 
He was a prominent lawyer, a fine soldierly looking man, and dis- 
tinguished himself as Colonel of the 53rd North Carolina Regiment 
in the war. . While standing on the hotel steps later, in a crowd, 
Colonel Morehead came up and asked me if I had seen "Joe?" 
Now Joe was his brother about my age, a fine boy and witty when 
a boy, and now a prominent man and the President of the "Guil- 
ford Battle Ground Association," representing the deeds of the 
Continentals under General Greene in his battle with Cornwallis 
in the Revolutionary war. I told the Colonel that I had not seen 
Joe, and he said, "There he is now, don't let him know who you 
are." He called his brother and said, "Joe, here is an old friend 
of yours, and I want to see if you know him." It had been thirty 
years since we last met and we were both gray headed. We shook 
hands, but he didn't know me. The crowd gathered around and 
looked on for they didn't know me either. Joe said, "I don't 
know him." Colonel Morehead said, "Yes you do. Turn him 
around. Listen to his voice. Don't you recognize him?" "No, 
I don't know him." So the rolling years make the memory un- 
faithful, and friends are forgotten. Finally I said, "Wait a minute, 
I can make Joe know me without telling him my name. Do you 
remember in 1865, at the close of the war, you and another man 
traveled to Danville, Virginia, from Greensboro, behind the poor- 
est, and laziest and ugliest old mule in the State." "Good Lord, 
Jim, ha! ha! ha!" And he roared with laughter, followed by the 
crowd. He couldn't remember me, but he remembered the mule 
and the companion behind the mule. We pass from the memory 
of our friends, but incidents, though maybe ridiculous, will bring 

119 



us back over the lapse of time. Major Morehead begged me to go 
with him to see the monuments and Avenues of the battleground, 
but I had other engagements, and have always since regretted not 
going with him. That is the battleground that we visited in 1859 
with those four beautiful girls , as described in a former decade. 
A flattering notice in a city paper the next morning after our 
arrival caused a good many of my old friends to call, and at church 
I almost held a reception as I was recognized at the service. Our 
lovely relative, Mrs. Fannie Cole Nicholson, and her husband, 
invited us to spend our time with them, but we had to hurry on 
our journey. "Good-bye to my old home and friends," back to 
Danville and good-bye to my kindred, and on to Charlottsville, 
Virginia, meeting Watson, my room mate at college, at the car 
window as I passed Chatham. We spent an hour in the moon- 
light at the University campus of Virginia, and communed with 
the spirit of Jefferson; then on back to Louisville to get our return 
ticket, and away, away to the prairies of Texas and our home. 
When we arrived at Little Rock we learned that a bridge between 
Little Rock and Texarkana had been washed away, so we remained 
all day at the depot in Little Rock and then took the road south 
to Pine Bluff, then another train westward. In the midnight dark- 
ness, going south, the rain pouring down, the great floods spreading 
over the swamp, the heat burning us up, the waters flooding the 
tracks, a freight train steamed up in front of us, we were water 
bound, railroad bound, could go neither forward nor backward, 
had to stay all night, and nine hundred and ninety millions of 
mosquitoes keeping us company. I didn't count them but guessed 
that number by the songs they sung and the bites they bit. 

My daughter had been received most cordially by all of my old 
friends and she enjoyed witnessing my reception by them. One 
of my old soldier friends, Captain Dave Scott, complimented her 
to me for her beauty. I told him that was nothing — I had three 
others back in Texas as beautiful. He replied, "I don't believe 
it." A fine lady in Danville asked me to give Katie to her, but I 
had to decline. What could I do without my flower girl? But 
alas! I had been back home only a week, when a young man of 
Virginia, who had been spending the summer in the north, appeared 

120 



at my house and asked me to give Katie to him, and as I couldn't 
find any excuse or refusing, as we had known him for years and 
he was a member of the faculty of the University of Texas, and as 
Katie didn't object, there was a wedding at my house and Katie 
Cole became Katie Cole Duval on the 14th of July, 1905, and they 
took the steamer at Galveston and landed in New York. So the 
birds take wing and fly away from the nest when they are strong 
enough. And they are away up north in the University of Kansas 
now, but once or twice a year, they fly back to the nest to see the 
old birds. 

As I have been passing along from youth to old age, I have met 
many great men, orators, preachers, statesmen, poets, historians, 
novelists — many intellectual and beautiful women: Many of 
these I knew well and they were my friends. I have listened to 
eloquent preachers — Bishops Early, Wightman, Pierce, Kavan- 
augh, Doggett, Garrett, Hoss, Marvin, Mouzon, Kilgo, Drs. 
Craven, Deems, Talmage, Edwards, Sam Jones, Stewart, Gen. 
Booth, Gypsy Smith, Dr. Reid, Abe Mulkey. I have heard fam- 
ous orators — Vance, Davis, Stephens, Yancy, Daniel. I have met 
and heard Gilmore Simms, the great novelist, poet and historian; 
Barron Hope, the gentle poet; Thomas Nelson Page, poet and 
novelist and diplomat, and Benson the novelist. I visited the 
Senate Chamber and witnessed the impeachment trial of General 
Bellknap, the Secretary of War, and Judge Black, the great law- 
yer, and Lamar, the great Mississippi statesman. I had met 
Presidents Buchanan, Hayes, McKinley, Roosevelt, Taft and 
Wilson. I have seen Lee, and Longstreet, and Jackson, and Hill, 
and Hood, and Stuart, and Pender, and Branch in battle. Jack- 
son was my Lieutenant General, Hill my Major General, Pender, 
Branch and Leaventhorp were my Brigadier Generals, and all of 
them, but one, fell in battle and that one was desperately wounded 
at Gettysburg. If I should describe all the great sermons, and the 
great orations, and the great men making them, it would fill a 
volume. 

I am a Royal Arch and a 32 Degree Scottish Rite Mason, 
enjoying and appreciating the beauty and great lessons of that 
ancient order. 

121 



I have devoted nearly forty years of my life as an educator in 
private schools, denominational schools, public schools, masonic 
school, and Mechanical & Agricultural school, male schools, female 
schools, military schools, as teacher, professor and president. 




122 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Baptist University. 
After I had rested from the work and worry of my own military 
school for two years, I accepted the invitation of the president of 
the Baptist University in Oak Cliff to occupy the chair of History 
and Literature, and spent three pleasant years among a fine body 
of young ladies and men, without any of the worry or responsi- 
bility, except what pertained to my special work, and that was 
pleasant and easy. While my plans of management and manner 
of teaching had always been of such description as to obtain good 
results and order, it was always my desire to trust my students 
and please them and keep them in good humor, both because it 
would secure better work from them, and because a smile from 
them was better than a frown, and it came back to me like a pleas- 
ant echo. Oftentimes when a class of young ladies entered my 
section room and took their seats at their desks, and I 
observed a discontented look or a frown on the face of the student, 
I would go to her desk and say, " What's the matter?" She would 
generally reply, " Nothing." "Then why have you that frown on 
your face?" She would begin to laugh, and the discontent would 
disappear. The classes consisted of about fifteen or twenty young 
ladies and I would divide them into squads, as an old soldier 
would say, and select some fine literary work for each one and have 
them to read the work and critcize in a written essay, and after a 
few weeks, they would read these essays to the class, and they 
would get the benefit of each essay and criticism as well as the 
particular work assigned to each. The variety and emulation of 
this system pleased the students very much. Sometimes I would 
join them and we would read, one after another, in class, some fine 
poem like Homer, Virgil, Milton, or Scott, or an interesting novel 
like Ben Hur, and discuss the work, and that arrangement was 
always a pleasant exercise. Sometimes I would write a little squib 
on the black board like, "This is a bad spell of wether," and asked 
the class if there was anything wrong about that sentence. They 
would, of course, discover that "Wether" was spelled wrong. I 
would say, "Look again, are you sure there is anything wrong 

123 



with that sentence?" And they would insist "Wether" was 
spelled wrong. Then I would say, "Well that is what the sen- 
tence said, 'This is a bad spell of wether.' " Then they would see 
the joke and have a hearty laugh. 

Sometimes, to illustrate some problem in life and to call their 
attention to the difficulty of knowing what to do under many cir- 
cumstances, difficulties that made juries "hang" in their decisions 
because of the strength of opposing reasons, I would spring upon 
them some narrative, true or imaginary, to test their judgment 
and make them think. One day I was lecturing on certain phases 
of the history of the United States, giving the names of political 
parties from the formation of the government to the present day, 
and the principles of the parties, and the leaders of those parties, 
telling them that there were great and good men in all the parties, 
that Mr. Cleveland was a great and good man, so was Mr. Bryan, 
so was Mr. McKinley and so was Mr. Roosevelt, all patriots, but 
differing in principles, but, of course, I never told them which was 
right in his principles. They, the student, must select for them- 
selves. When the class was dismissed, a beautiful and intelligent 
young girl, the sister of a democratic congressman, came up to 
me and said, "Ah, Professor, get off the fegce, get off the fence!" 
Now she had never heard her distinguished brother express any 
sentiment but that of a Democrat, and she could see no virtue in 
any other party. 

One day a large class marched into my room and seated them- 
selves at their desks. After half an hour of examination on their 
lesson, I addressed them as follows, "Young ladies, your sur- 
roundings and experiences are such as appertain to female colleges, 
and you see nothing here to make known to you the temptations 
and dangers and roughness of institutions where the gentle re- 
finements of female influences do not prevail. I will give you an 
illustration of University life, where habits and surroundings 
sometimes bring about unexpected and undesirable results. My 
young son, Lum, was a student at the University of Texas; he 
was twenty years of age, of medium size, and modest in his de- 
portment. He was a member of the Junior Class, and, for his 
size, was an athlete in running, and high jumping, and bicycle 

124 



racing, and boxing, and football. He belonged to the University 
football team for four years, and played against the great Uni- 
versity teams of Louisiana, and Mississippi, and Tennessee, and 
Arkansas, and Missouri, and Oklahoma, and Kansas, and had his 
knee broken, arm broken, his neck nearly broken, and his ear 
nearly torn off. He was fighting for the honor of his University 
and his State. One day we received a letter from him which made 
us tremble before we finished reading it. I cannot repeat his 
language but it was, in substance, about as follows; "Dear Papa 
and Mama: I w r ould have written to you yesterday, but my hand 
trembled so that I couldn't write. Even now I can hardly hold 
my pen. I will try to tell you of a horrible experience I had a few 
nights ago. My roommate and I were rooming on the first floor 
of our boarding house; as it was warm weather w r e opened the 
windows and door before beginning our studies at night, then 
opened our books and studied until about eleven o'clock. We put 
out the lights and retired to our beds, and were soon sound asleep. 
The moon was shining brightly through the windows. About 1 
o'clock I was awakened by the most unearthly scream that ever 
fell upon my ears, and it froze me to the bed. Again I heard the 
scream, and I sat up and looked and there in the center of the room 
stood a ghost — no, not a ghost but a man, with gleaming eyes, 
dressed in white from head to feet, and in his hand was an open 
knife which he was whirling around and he continued to scream, 
looking straight at me. My roommate rolled off the back of the 
bed on to the floor. I realized that a wild lunatic had escaped 
from the asylum about a mile away, and had wandered into our 
room through the open door. He commenced walking slowly 
towards me, glaring and screaming, with his open knife in his 
hands. I felt that my life was in danger and that I had to fight 
desperately. So I let my feet down to the floor and when he came 
within about five feet of me, I said, "Good-bye Papa! Good-bye 
Mama! 1 ' and made a spring upon the maniac, and we both went 
to the floor and we rose and fell over chairs, and trunks, and tables, 
struggling fiercely, I to save my life, and he to kill me. In the 
struggle I tore his clothes off of him, and finally he leaped through 
the window T and disappeared among the bushes and trees, leaving 

125 * 



his white gown in my hands. I fell back on the bed breathless 
and my roommate crawled out from under the bed. It was an 
awful struggle and we were thankful that we had escaped the 
knife of the wild maniac. He was very strong and fought viciously 
and I never was so scared in my life. About three minutes later 
a dozen of my football club rushed into our room, shouting and 
laughing, headed by the "Maniac," and the joke was revealed 
to us, but it was almost a joke of death, for the "Maniac" saw his 
danger when I leaped upon him, and he then fought to save his 
life and not take mine. The next day the "Ghost Story" was on 
the blackboard of the University and the "Maniac" said, "Cole 
was badly scared, but not half as bad as I was when he leaped 
upon me." Now ladies, this is a true story and a specimen of 
hazing sometime indulged in at Universities." I told the story 
to a distinguished judge in our city and he said, "That man was 
the biggest fool I ever heard of. Cole would have been justified 
in killing him." 

This young football player, a few years after this, discovered 
a lovely girl of eighteen visiting in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where he 
was living, and had the impudence to follow her to her home 
in Jefferson City, Missouri, and asked her father and mother to 
give her to him, and they gave her to him. And they are now living 
in their beautiful home in Tulsa with the sweetest little flower in 
the world, called Mary Caroline. 

Wishing to impress one of my classes with the great importance 
of their influence in life, I addressed them about as follows on one 
occasion: "Young ladies, there is nothing in the universe that is 
not moving. Motion is the law governing all created things. The 
suns and systems of the worlds are swinging through unlimited 
space and couldn't stop if they wished to do so. A little pebble 
cast out in the deep waters of the ocean causes the turbulent 
billows to circle round and go until they break upon the distant 
shores. So your deeds and language influence the lives of millions 
as they come in contact with circling worlds and ages, and your 
voice, whether sweet or harsh, will ring along the avenues of eter- 
nity. Therefore, cultivate the sweet smile of friendship and kind- 
ness, for if you smile while looking in the mirror, a smile will come 

126 



back to you, if you frown you will say, u How ugly that girl is!" 
How sweet is an echo coming back in answer to a sweet voice! 
You put on your prettiest dress and exhibit your excellent taste 
and look your best when you are interested in one of the 'Lords 
of creation.' Now, after you have captured him, you should use 
this same tactics to prevent his escape. You are not living alone, 
use your influence for. good, for the only true happiness consists 
in making others happy. We are taught that we have all been 
influenced by our parents in the Garden of Eden. That influence 
goes back thousands of years. Now you never thought that I 
was acquainted with the beautiful Mary Queen of Scots, and that 
she has greatly influenced my life. Yes, that beautiful face that 
lay so pathetically on the block, has been before me on many pages 
of history, and she kissed and shook hands with her son, James 
the First, of England before her death, and he shook hands with 
his unfortunate son, Charles the First before he turned the throne 
over to him, and Charles shook hands and handed down his in- 
fluence to Charles the Second before his head fell on the block, 
and Charles the Second shook hands with William Penn when he 
came to the wilds of America, and settled Pennsylvania, and Penn 
shook hands with Benjamin Franklin, when as a printer boy, he 
came to Philadelphia, and, he in his old age, shook hands with 
the young James Buchanan, and in 1859 I shook hands with 
President Buchanan at the annual commencement of the North 
Carolina University, and thus have felt the direct influence of 
the beautiful Queen of Scots to this day. And now, ladies, if you 
wish to shake hands with me, and join in the procession you may 
do so." Instantly, with much laughter, the whole class came for- 
ward and shook hands with me. See how the wave of influence 
spreads. 



*£ 



127 



CHAPTER XIX. 
In the Philipine Islands. 

My youngest daughter, Nora, was just fourteen years of age, 
and the pet of the family. She had been attending St. Mary's 
College for young ladies. Miss Duval, Principal of the Virginia 
Female Institute, Staunton, Virginia, wrote to us and requested 
us to send Nora to her. She had heard about her from her brother, 
Captain Duval, Commandant of Cadets and Professor of Mathe- 
matics in Cole's Classical & Military School. As Nora was delicate, 
we thought she would be benefitted by the climate of the valley 
of Virginia and the mountain air in that region. So we let her go 
with Captain Duval for the next scholastic year. The school 
was one of the best in the State, and the ladies managing it were 
refined and accomplished. The following is the first letter she 
wrote us: 

"Dear Papa and Mama: This is Saturday morning, about 
9:30 and I have nothing to do but think about home, every meal 
time comes I can see every one of you there at home all together 
and me away off here alone. I can't help thinking of it. When I 
was making up my bed this morning, I wished I was at home 
making up every bed in the house. This morning when I first 
woke up I thought I was at home, but when I realized where I 
was, and all alone, I could not help but cry. O mama, you never 
did send Katie away from her home or any of the other girls, and 
you sent me away off alone when I wasn't but fourteen, and ought 
not to go for three or four years yet. It seems like all of you are 
dead, for it is nearly a year before I will see any of you, but if 
you won't let me come home with Captain I will come home 
Christmas to stay anyway, I could come by myself, They are 
all very nice to me here and the place is real pretty, but I want 
to come home. The room I have is one of the teacher's and not 
mine, so I can't pass off my time by fixing my room up, and all 
I have to do is to sit down and think about all of you. Miss 
Duval kissed me good-night last night, but that just made me 
all the worse, for I wanted to kiss Mama. Captain and I are going 
over to Lexington this evening about four and stay until Friday, 

128 



but that is worse than ever, as it takes me farther away from 
home. I know you will tell all the family to write to me now so 
as I wont be homesick. I want to hear from you all, but I want 
you to write and tell me I can come home with Captain or anyway 
come home Christmas to stay. Mama, I will do anything you say 
if you will only let me come home. They never send any child 
so far from home when they are so young, and Mama, you know 
I can not stay away from home. I never thought of it being half 
so bad. O I must come home Papa, I can't stay here, let me come 
home and go to school to you even if I am the only girl. I know 
that you will say that I am only homesick and will get all right 
later on, but I wont, and I know it wont do my health any good 
for I don't feel like doing a thing. If you will let me come home 
I will give you back my five dollars and you can take back what 
they will take back, and I wont ask you for a nickel nor a new 
dress, or anything through the whole winter. I must come back 
Papa, I can't help it, and I know that you think it is for the best 
that I should stay here but it isn't. I will study hard all the win- 
ter at home and do anything you want me to do but I can't stay 
here, it don't hurt what. I can't stay until Christmas or hardly 
one month and I can't think of nine months. I wont ask to go 
anywhere next summer. Next year at school here will be plenty 
soon enough or even the next year. They never send girls away 
from home until they are sixteen anyway and you ought not to 
send me away until I am eighteen. Papa write and say I may 
come home when Captain comes, for I can't stay here and I must 
come home. Nora." 

It was a desperate case of home sickness, and troubled us very 
much at home. We wrote to her earnestly advising her to remain, 
and the ladies of the Institute treated her as kindly as if she was 
one of their family, but her letters still implored us to let her come 
home. Finally I wrote to her telling her she might come, and I 
sent her a railroad ticket to pay her fare. She was extravag- 
antly happy and made her arrangements to return with Captain 
Duval. Then what do you suppose she did? Surrendered the 
ticket, said she knew we wanted her to stay, and thought she 
ought to stay, and she would stay. At the end of the school year 

129 



the next session, she came home by herself, and met Katie and 
me at Memphis, where we were attending the Confederate Re- 
union. She attended St. Mary's College three years after her 
return and, after a journey to the Colorado mountains, and a 
sojourn in New York and Virginia and Carolina, she finally changed 
her name to Mrs. Nora Cole Skinner on January 3rd, 1912. 

My son, Dr. King Cole, crossed the Pacific Ocean four times 
and traveled among the almond-eyed Japanese, the yellow pig- 
tail Chinamen, and spent six years among the numerous Philip- 
pine Islands, the former home of the Rover and the Pirate. Three 
of these years he was in the service of his country, as Contract 
Surgeon in the Army. It was his duty to go from place to place, 
from island to island, wherever the epidemics prevailed, the cholera, 
the smallpox, the beri beri, and oftentimes a surgeon in the army 
was in much greater danger than the man in battle. You may 
easily imagine that we were anxious about him, and many 
letters went after him across the wild waters begging him to come 
back home, and the tearful refrain was often heard, " Where is 
my wandering boy to-night ?" After three years spent as sur- 
geon in the army, he resigned and came home, but remained only 
six months, when he went back to take charge of an agricultural 
plant which he had organized, with several army officers, for 
cultivating hemp and cocoanuts. This proved to be profitable, 
but finally the treacherous Moros murdered two of his partners, 
Lieut. Bolton, the Governor of the Province, and Mr. Christian, 
the chief overseer; and my son, Dr. Cole, joined a body of soldiers 
and hunted among the hills for the murderers and stormed their 
fortified fort and slew the chief murderer. My son then came home 
and fortunately found a beautiful, noble, gentle, lovely woman, 
Patsy Owens, who had more influence over him than all his family 
ever had, and he sold his farm in the Philippines and married this 
good woman. For two years after she came into our family, she 
was a joy to every member, and then, suddenly, the fell disease 
struck her down, and the sweet flowers that cover her grave and 
carry loving messages to her happy spirit cannot drive from us 
the sad heart-throbs of memory. 



130 






As illustrating the life "On the Ocean Wave," and the ups and 
downs incident to a home in these far off islands, I will give a few 
extract from letters received from my son: 

"Bailer, Luzon, P. I. 8-3-02. 

A little over a week ago there was a plot to attack 

this town, release the native prisoners, and kill the officers. We 
had been warned that such a scheme was on foot, but did not 
know what date it was to take place. So one night the Captain 
arranged that the signal for taps should be recognized for call 
to arms just for a drill so the men would know what to do. In 
this drill a squad of men go to Captain Kilburn's quarters, and a 
squad to Lieut. Parker and my quarters, while the rest of the men 
fall in line in front and behind the men's quarters. Taps sounded 
at ten p. m. Just a few minutes before ten, we noticed that the 
streets of the town were alive with native men and that there 
wasn't a light in any native house. There was a squad in front 
of Captain K.'s quarters and a number near the guard house, 
and we afterwards learned, behind Lieut. P. and my quarters. 
In the group near the Captain's quarters (Lieut. Parker and I 
were there talking with the Captain) a man whistled Taps. About 
this time Taps sounded and the natives seeemed to get restless. 
In a minute a native ran around the corner and whistled Agui- 
naldo's March. Immediately the natives jumped but at the same 
time the squad of soldiers started to Captain K.'s quarters at 
double quick. The natives heard them coming and scattered 
in every direction. We afterwards learned that the call for "taps" 
was the signal the natives had arranged for their attack which 
was to take place that night. 

Ycur son, 

R. K. COLE." 

Thus a remarkable coincidence saved the lives of these officers 
and soldiers. Was it Providence? 

When my son made his second trip across the Pacific, return- 
ing to the islands, after returning home, he landed in the town of 
Davao, on the Mindanao Island, fifty miles from his farm at 
Malita. Davao was his nearest Post Office. To reach his farm 

131 



he had to travel by a sail or row boat along the coast. Ordinarily 
it required about twenty-four hours, but because of the roughness 
of the waves, the furious storms, the running aground, and the 
sinking of the boat, it took four days and nights of hard and dan- 
gerous work. I will let him tell a part of the story after two days 
and nights of dangers and disasters. 

" About 5, being assured by the Moros traveling with us that 
the sea and winds were both favorable for a resumption of our 
journey, we pulled out. We sailed across to the point and then 
pulled around the point. We made fair progress, although the 
sea was still rather high outside the bay. About nine o'clock 
(night) things began to look rather bad. The wind was getting 
stronger and stronger, and the waves higher and higher. As the 
breakers near shore were worse than the waves further out, we 
pulled out a little way and tried to make around the next point 
where there was a fine harbor. We could make no headway, so 
backed near shore again, and, even with the oars and poles, we 
could not advance. Finally the Moro Datto who was with us 
told us the beach was sandy, so we decide to go ashore and beach 
the boat. The Datto was correct, but he had been there at high 
tide, and we struck it at low tide and found plenty of rocks before 
you could reach the sand. The wind and waves were something 
terrible now, and we struck the rocks a severe blow and the waves 
began breaking all over us; out we jumped into the water and 
shoved the boat off and tried to pull out but were unable to do 
so against the waves, our banca shipping water every minute. 
We decided to drop anchor and try to ride out the storm, and 
Lieut. Bolton and five natives swam ashore to lighten the boat. 
They built a fire, and were warming themselves, when I called 
to them to return to the boat, as the anchor refused to hold and 
we were on the rocks again. We pulled out again and Lieut. 
Bolton went up and down the beach, trying to find a good land- 
ing place. While he was gone the waves having become so huge 
that they were braking clear over our cabin and our bailing 
made no headway on the water in the boat. The boat refused 
to rise to one of the waves and down she sank with all on board. 

132 



We pulled up the anchor and, every one jumping overboard, 
we carried a rope to the rocks and pulled the boat up to them. 
Here with every wave she would rise up and come down with a 
bang on the rocks, and waves, mountain high, breaking all over 
her and washing us from our feet. Every one turned to then and 
began unloading the boat. The boat sank at 10:03, then, as my 
watch stopped just as soon as it got a dose of salt water when I 
jumped overboard. We had a bright moonlight night, so things 
could have been worse. The light articles were easily removed, 
in fact, the sea moved quite a number of them. The jumping 
of the boat and the waves knocking us down interfered with our 
work, so it took us over an hour to unload the boat. The trunks 
were very unmanageable and rather dangerous. I got into the 
boat to pass out the things and the waves would throw boxes, 
trunks, etc., against me and kept me busy trying to get out of 
their way. I would get one end of the trunk up on the side of the 
boat ready for Wilson and Bolton outside to take hold when a 
wave would knock me and the trunk both in the bottom of the 
boat. Besides, Wilson also had some boxes, and one, containing 
axes, chisels, saws, etc,, broke open and it wasn't nice to have 
them to strike against your legs. As you know, my two trunks 
weighed about 200 pounds each, and after filling with salt water 
its weight was almost double. We finally got them out on the 
rocks in about one-half foot of water, and, getting ropes and poles, 
we carried them ashore about 100 yards further. As there was 
about 100 yards of rocks before we could reach the high sandy 
beach, and these rocks covered with half to one foot of water, 
the way we did slip and slide and fall around on these rocks would 
have been very amusing if it hadn't been so serious. We hunted 
all over the rocks for missing articles washed ashore and then about 
2:30 (night) or 3:00 o'clock, having gotten all we could find up 
high on the beach and having anchored the boat out off of the 
rocks to ride out the storm as best it could, I noticed my phono- 
graph sitting on a box apparently uninjured but full of water. 
I poured the water out, got out a record needle and the sound 
box played 'Home, Sweet Home!' That may sound a little fishy, 
but it is the truth It certainly was a 

133 



picture; a barren coast, a storm blowing, high waves dashing ^lose 
in, a bright fire, and the moon lighting up the scene, disclosing 
wreckage strown along the beach, nine natives and three Ameri- 
cans with practically no clothes on, everything soaking wet, and 
a phonograph grinding out 'Home, Sweet Home!' " 

After two more days and nights equally as dangerous and 
trying and wading a river up to their waist, they arrived at the 
farm; clothing, watches, guns, papers, books, all nearly rained 
with salt water, mixed with broken bottles with medicine, etc., 
etc. And we in "Grand Old Texas," "The Garden of the Lord." 



<^5 



134 



CHAPTER XX. 

War Pictures — Harper's Ferry, 1859, and John Brown. 
One summer evening in 1905, I stood in a great hall in the city 
of Louisville on the banks of the Ohio. Around me were ten 
thousand men, gray headed and weatherbeaten, and ten thousand 
women with lovely smiles and tearful eyes. Bands of music 
poured forth national and patriotic strains from brazen throats 
and a thousand flags waved over the great multitude. I saw a 
fine looking man presiding, erect and graceful, seventy years of 
age, gray headed and gray uniform, with three golden stars on 
each collar. I saw a beautiful blooming lady leaning from the 
gallery and waving a flag of bars and stars and her voice rose over 
the great hall as she sang "My Old Kentucky Home" and "Dixie 
Land," and I saw this great multitude of gray headed men rise 
and shout and weep, and a stranger to this land said, "What does 
this mean!" I replied, "This multitude of men is a part of the 
remnant of a half million of heroes who charged down the valley 
of death forty years ago in defense of their homes and to grapple 
with the invader of their country. The man with the golden 
stars was a Lieutenant General and a great leader on many battle 
fields. These ladies are the women of the heroic days of the 60' s 
and their descendants, and these flags and cheers and tears and 
shouts are the tribute to the memory of sufferings, sacrifices and 
immortal deeds on a thousand battlefields." 

Turning my face to the rising sun I plunged through the moun- 
tains and over the rivers of Kentucky, West Virginia, and Virginia, 
and landed in that mecca of the southern pilgrims — Lexington, 
Virginia. Alone I stand with uncovered head before the statue 
and at the grave of him who was sterner, stronger, greater than 
Cromwell — the man of the valley, of Manassas, of Chancellors- 
ville — Stonewall Jackson. I served under him in marching, in 
campaigns, and battles! I saw him leading his battalions in the 
storm as army met army and grappled in deadly conflict, and here 
he lies before me guarded by his own bronzed, heroic statue. 

Passing from the cemetery, I enter a shady walk and come to 
a church whose door opens to my knock and a flood of light re- 

135 



veals a reclining statue of marble, white and still, as an emblem 
of eternity. That noble form dressed in gray, the gray hair over 
his brow, the sword lying beside his side, so still, so still; I have 
seen him when he was guiding his matchless army in battle, when 
his graceful form sat erect on his charger, the man of Manassas, 
of Antietam, of Gettysburg, of Fredericksburg, of Chancellors- 
ville, of the Wilderness, the man of the century — Robert E. Lee. 
I descended to the basement and there locked in the walls he rests 
beside his wife and his daughters. I visited the University over 
which he presided and gazed with sad thoughts at his home; and 
then passing on I stood before a monument erected to the memory 
of fifty-six boys, cadets of the Military Institute, who fell in their 
first battle at New Market, fighting like the veterans of a hundred 
battles. My thoughts and memories of long ago which these 
scenes brought back to my mind and heart now furnish me with 
the pictures which I shall paint for those who choose to look. 

There are times in the lives of all men more interesting, more 
thrilling, more fascinating than the ordinary happenings of or- 
dinary life. The sun rises and sets with marvelous regularity, 
and we do not notice the golden splendor of the rising nor the 
radiance of the setting luminary. With all its glory, it is an 
everyday occurrence. As we stand on the bridge at midnight 
the stars in the infinite heavens are singing the songs of creation, 
but we do not see the wonderful beauty nor hear the ravishing 
music — it is always happening as the hours fly swiftly across the 
meridians. The United States, for nearly a century has been 
having its ups and downs with England, and the Indians and 
Mexico; but the days and years passed on, keeping the step to 
the drum beat of time, and children became men and gray hairs 
curled around aged brows and the cemetery became the home of 
the generation, and the dream of young manhood was of peace, 
happiness and love. But the time was coming, the storm was 
brewing, the political heavens were growing black, and the pro- 
phet saw chaos, misery and death. 

From 1850 to 1860 selfishness, injustice, bigotry, fanaticism, 
ignorance, prejudice, anger and unmitigated meanness stirred up 
all the passions of love and hatred, from the lakes to the gulf, 

136 



from ocean to ocean in our great Republic. Books were written, 
papers published, speeches made, murder committed, sermons 
preached, all to array one section of our country against another, 
until a sectional president was elected by one side of our country 
alone, pledged to enact laws in the interest of one section and 
against the other. 

For the decade preceding the mighty struggle between the 
States there were two classes of people in the American Union who 
hated each other with a mortal hatred and two words that ex- 
pressed that hatred — Abolitionist and Slavery. The Abolitionist 
claimed " Slavery to be the sum of all evil," the Constitution that 
authorized slavery u a covenant with death, and a league with hell," 
and if the Bible justified slavery they would abolish the Bible. 
The slave holder asserted that slavery was taught to be right 
by the Bible, was upheld by the Constitution of the United States, 
and the doctrines of the Abolitionists would result in insurrection 
and murder and slaughter among the white families in the south. 
There was no compromise, it was an "irrepressible conflict." 

First Picture. In 1859, in one of the most beautiful spots of 
our lovely land, where mountains, and valleys, and fields, and 
forest, and rushing waters, and murmuring rivulets, where autumn 
leaves and blushing flowers and curling smoke and snowy clouds 
and bending skies and weeping rainbows all combined to make 
a Paradise, a lovely little village nestled in the embrace of nature 
and was happy in its obscurity, its peace and its future. The 
Potomac, gathering its tributaries and singing down the valley, 
rushed against the frowning mountain, tore it asunder, and, 
shouting triumph, passed on by the beautiful village into the 
deep blue sea. Early one morning of this fatal year, as the curl- 
ing smoke began to rise above the hamlets and homes of the 
lovely Eden, and the gray dawn was breaking over the mountain 
tops of Maryland and Virginia, dim shadows of stealthy men were 
seen crossing the bridge and rushing toward the armory of the 
Government, and then the crack of the rifle broke upon the still- 
ness of the morning, and there fell upon Virginia soil the first victims 
of the coming storm of civil war, and Harper's Ferry had been 
attacked and taken by a band of Abolitionists under John Brown. 

137 



Blood had been spilt, murder had been committed, a slave in- 
surrection had been proclaimed, and treason had been committed 
against the Government. Two men, by accident or good fortune, 
were in Washington City at this time, away from their command 
in far away Texas, two men who stepped in view on the stage 
of history before the audience of the world, Col. Robert E. Lee 
and Lieut. James E. B. Stuart. President Buchanan, feeling the 
tempest about to burst over the nation, sent these two men to 
grapple with the storm and crush its fury. Gathering their sol- 
diers they battered down the defenses and captured Brown and 
son and followers, and there John Brown hangs upon the gallows 
erected by the outraged laws of Virginia, while his abolitionist 
admirers proclaimed him a martyr, and they sing, " John Browns 
soul goes marching on;" and the South, gazing upon the swaying 
form of the dead invader of Virginia, sternly applauded the 
death of a murderer and a traitor. Thus was heard the first 
thunder of the black clouds of the coming storm. The people 
that could applaud John Brown for his deeds, and the people 
that could hang John Brown for his deeds could not feast at the 
same banquet, could not sit under the same vine and fig tree, 
could not march under the same flag. 

Two years passed and the clouds were growing blacker, there 
was no silver lining, the storm was more threatening, passion and 
hatred ruled the nation and the patriot trembled for his country 
and the safety of his home. 




138 



CHAPTER XXL 

War Pictures. — Sharpsburg. Lee and McClellan. 

The land of the South was a land of peace, of contentment, 
of sunshine, of spring roses, of autumn leaves, of brave men, of 
pure women. The mocking bird sang in the honeysuckle glen 
and the manly youth made love to the blushing maid among the 
lillies and the forget-me-nots. The plowman whistled as he laid 
wide open the gaping furrow, the hunter's horn was heard on the 
hills, telling Kathleen Mavourneen "the gray dawn is breaking/' 
and the school boy is bending over the old blue back speller in 
the old log schoolhouse or playing cat under the great oak trees 
near the gushing spring. O what a glorious land, what a happy 
land, the old, old South! But hark! What sounds startle the 
inhabitants by the sea! Is it the roar of the ocean? Is it a storm 
from the mountains? It is nothing but the winds blowing among 
the pines; "On with the dance! Let pleasure be unconfined! 
Let music swell and feet beat time to the throbbing heart!" Again 
thunder shakes the heavens, the city trembles, and the houses 
totter and fall. To arms! To arms! The battle is begun, the 
storm has burst over our land, the lightnings have cleaved the 
heavens, and' the whole earth is startled by the guns of Sumpter. 

Then thirty millions of Americans sprang to their feet, thirty 
millions of voices cried out from hill top to hill top, from valley 
to valley, from ocean to ocean. The tramp of the marching armies, 
the clash of the sabre and the sword, the roar of the cannon, and 
the crack of the rifle, the rush of the charging squadron and the 
yell of the deadly infantry shook the continent and made the 
world turn pale. From every home a boy marched away to meet 
the invading foe; and as he turned on the threshold of the old 
homestead and said, "Good-bye, Mother!" her old arms circled 
around his neck, the tears rained down her pale face and she 
cried, "God protect my boy!" Then he looked into the swimming 
eyes of the sweet girl — "The girl he left behind," and her face 
flushed as her trembling lips met his and she said, "Good-bye, 
my hero!" Who would not be a hero for such a country, for such 
a mother, for such a sweetheart. 

139 



Four years this bloody war was waged; four years of the most 
heroic struggle of the bravest race of men that ever faced death. 
More than two millions and a half of men, brave, stern, strong, 
stretching from ocean to ocean with cannon and rifle and sword 
marched from the North against our lovely Southland, to strangle 
and crush our infant nation in the name of the Union; and 600,000 
Southern boys and sturdy men from the Rio Grande and the Gulf 
and the Mississippi Valley and the South Atlantic slopes marched 
to meet them in the name of freedom and independence and their 
happy homes. 

The Southern Confederacy, like the Goddess from the brain 
of Jupiter, sprang into existence in a day; for four springs and 
summers and autumns and winters it flashed across the heavens 
like a meteor, astonishing the world with its brightness, and then 
faded, faded, faded away behind the blood red curtain of history — 
and a nation had risen, had flourished, had fallen. 

I will not attempt to follow the campaigns and marches of 
all the great invading armies nor the forces of the South that 
rushed to meet their foe on more than a thousand bloody battle- 
fields on nearly every square mile of our Southland. It would 
take more than a thousand volumes to give a full account of this 
mighty struggle. The first great battle of Manassas on the plains 
of Virginia had been fought and w;on by Johnston and Beauregard; 
the seven days battle around Richmond had been fought and won by 
Lee and his 70,000 heroes. The second battle of Manassas had been 
fought and Pope, the boastful, had heen hurled across the Potomac. 
Our sea coast and rivers were thick with the ships of our enemies, 
who swarmed like Vikings along our shores. Without arms, with- 
out provisions, without a recognized government, the South, with 
a great shout of defiance, faced and met and grappled with more 
than 2,000,000 brave men backed by a powerful government 
with arms and money and ships and the help of all the world. 

Second Picture. — A mighty army is crossing the Potomac, in- 
vading the North, led by Lee, and Longstreet, and Stonewall 
Jackson — mighty, not in numbers, but in patriotism, in bravery, 
in a courage that proclaims a victory or death. As battalion 
after battalion goes down into the cold waters of the river with 

140 



their bright bayonets flashing in the sunlight, a mighty volume 
of music rises from the throats of 35,000 men. 

"The Despots heel is on thy shore, Maryland, 

His torch is at thy temple door, Maryland, 
Avenge the patriotic gore that flecked the streets of 
Baltimore, 
And be the battle queen of yore, Maryland, my 
Maryland." 

At early dawn of the 17th of September, 1862, a Federal 
General stood on the mountains overlooking the Potomac and the 
plains of Virginia. His was a gallant figure, a pleasant face, a 
brilliant eye, a manly bearing. It was McClellan, the old anta- 
gonist of Lee, the commander of the army of the Potomac. To 
his right and to his left, stretching three miles along the sides 
of the mountain and on the banks of the Antietam 88,000 stern 
war veterans from the North, with bright muskets and glittering 
bayonets, are drawn up in battle array. Hooker and Mansfield 
and Sedgwick and Richardson and Burnside and Cox and Porter 
and Sumner, under the eagle eye of McClellan, command this 
great host. Two future presidents, Hayes and McKinley, fight 
bravely for the nation that will reward them by making them rulers 
of the reunited country. More than 150 cannon grimly look down 
upon the Southland. What does McClellan see across the An- 
tietam and between him and the Potomac? The dim shadows 
of night may darken his vision and he may see men as trees walk- 
ing and he may hear the hooting of the night owls in the tree tops 
and the murmuring of the rivulet at the base of the mountains, 
but as the faint light of the early dawn begins to glimmer over 
the hill tops, he beholds 35,000 men, grim, silent, and determined, 
their backs to the Potomac, their faces to the mountains, their 
left wing resting on the great river, their right wing on the An- 
tietam near the same river, forming a great bending bow like the 
bow that sends the flying arrows straight to the heart of its vic- 
tims. In the center of this bow is the village of Sharpsburg, and 
in the midst of the glittering bayonets and waiting cannons sits 
a man on horseback. O, you have heard of that man before, 

141 



and all the future ages will shout his name. What a figure, how 
calm, how confident, how masterful! He is the mightiest man of 
the century, the commander of this, the grandest army of the 
age, Robert E. Lee. On his left is Stonewall Jackson the invin- 
cible, on his left is Longstreet the warhorse, between these is D. 
H. Hill, the "bravest of the brave," and Hood, the Chevalier 
Bayard of the army, and Stuart, the Cavalier of the South, Just 
as the sun began to raise his golden banners in the eastern skies 
a hundred cannons from the mountains, with the hoarse voice 
of the growling thunder, opened the battle, and tore through the 
serried ranks of the opposing army. The southern guns sent back 
their thunderbolts, and southern banners waved in defiance, and 
the wild rebel yell rose upon the winds in answer to northern cheers. 
Hooker charged upon Jackson, who grappled him by the throat, 
and hurled him bleeding against the mountains. Mansfield rushed 
to Hooker's rescue, and Hill joined Jackson and the great Federal 
general fell dead. Sedgwick hastened to the help of the shattered 
Northmen, and Hood seized him in deadly embrace. Richardson 
marched with fluttering banners to aid the hard pressed Unionist, 
and Longstreet threw himself into the murderous conflict. And 
there stands McClellan on the mountain top with his field glass 
to his eye viewing the gigantic struggle, and there rides Lee in 
the midst of his soldiers, in the midst of the shrieking shells and 
whistling bullets and dying men, side by side with Longstreet 
and Hill and Hood. Hill has three horses shot under him; Long- 
street dismounts his staff to fight his artillery, whose every man 
has fallen on the field; Cook waves his banner of the 27th North 
Carolina, without a bullet to fire, but standing as long as he has a 
man to wave that banner. Away off to the right Burnside is 
crossing the Antietam to flank the Southern army and destroy 
it. Just in time, A. P. Hill, with his panting men from Harpers 
Ferry, dripping from the waters of the Potomac, hurls his division 
upon the enemy and after a fierce struggle drives them back to 
the Antietam. And the sun is setting beyond the western moun- 
tains of Virginia and the cannons cease to growl, and darkness 
settles down over the bloodiest day in the history of America. 
Nothing is heard but the groans of 20,000 bleeding Americans. 

142 



The bow remains unbroken and tens of thousands of deadly arrows 
have been hurled against the enemy. In the center of that great 
army, dead and alive, with no music but the mourning of the 
winds and the cry of the dying heard along the banks of the Poto- 
mac, sits on his war horse the same grand figure we saw in the 
gray dawn of morning, and there comes from the right and the 
left, worn and weary and desperate warriors to report the condi- 
tions of their commands and to give their advice as to what must 
be done. The Great Lee turns to Jackson and asks what is the 
condition of his command and what is his advice. "My command," 
says Jackson, "is fearfully cut up and there is nothing to do but 
retreat across the Potomac." "My command," says General 
Hill, "is cut to pieces and there is nothing to do but to retreat 
across the Potomac." General Longstreet reports, "My command 
has fought a fearful battle and is cut to pieces and there is nothing 
to do but to retreat across the Potomac." "General Hood," says 
General Lee, "What of your command?" Hoods face flushed and his 
eyes flashed with angry tears and he cried, "I have no command!" 
"My God," said General Lee, "What has become of that splendid 
division you led into battle this morning?" "They are lying out 
there on the battlefield dead and dying where you sent them!" 
Ah, what a picture was that! These giants of war! How they 
had fought and struggled and bled! How their men had fallen 
around them shouting their war cry as they lay dying. Lee's 
head bent down with the weight of the awful surroundings. The 
Potomac murmured to him to cross her waters in the darkness 
of night. The Virginia winds whispered to him to come back 
to the Virginia plains. The stern warriors around him said, "We 
must go back this night across the river." Raising his old gray 
head with his eyes flashing and his face flushing, his voice rang 
out, "I will not go back across the Potomac to-night. If McClellan 
wants a fight to-morrow he shall have it!" 



143 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Gettysburg. Lee and Meade. 
Third Picture. On the first day of July, 1863, two great 
armies, the best and bravest this world ever saw, commanded by 
two great generals, were about to grapple in deadly battle on the 
heights of Gettysburg, in Pennsylvania. Each was fighting for 
the existence of a nation, and the destiny of two great peoples 
hung upon the bright bayonets of the contending hosts. Seventy 
thousand Southern soldiers under Lee and Longstreet and Ewell 
and Hill and Stuart, with Pender and Pettigrew, Hood and Gor- 
don and Pickett, were about to seize by the throat one hundred 
thousand veterans from the North commanded by Meade, Han- 
cock, Howard, Reynolds and Sedgwick. In that Northern army 
was a brigade called the Iron Brigade, of three thousand men from 
the great northwest, brave, bold, strong, powerful, who boasted 
that they had never met their match. They were placed by their 
generals in a piece of woods, a very important position and told 
to hold it at all hazards, and threw back the stern reply, "If we 
can't do it, who can?" Opposed to this powerful brigade in the 
long line of battle were four regiments of boys and young men 
from the farms and hills and mountains of North Carolina, 3,000 
strong, commanded by one of the finest and most lovable men 
I ever knew, General J. Johnston Pettigrew. And now occurred 
the greatest and most terrible duel that was ever fought in all 
the ages. One of these regiments of the South of 850 men was 
commanded by a dark eyed, rose cheeked beardless boy of twenty- 
one years — Harry Burgynne. Another was commanded by a tall, 
straight, graceful, polished, British Nobleman, Col. Leaventhorpe, 
who had fallen in love with a beautiful girl among the mountains 
and married her and made his home in the midst of the lovely 
scenery in western North Carolina. Forward swept the North 
Carolinians, beautifully uniformed, splendidly disciplined, keeping 
step like cadets on parade. Soon the fire began to flash; soon the 
cannons began to roar, soon the rifles began to crack, soon the rebel 
yell rose on the air. Sternly stood the Iron Brigade of the North 
like a Gibraltar, and the storm of death flashed like lightning 

144 



from their rifles. Death now rode upon every breeze, heroes fell 
every second, thunder answered thunder, bullets met in mid air 
and whistled viciously, dyeing the plain with blood. Onward 
swept the Carolinians led by Pettigrew and Burgynne and 
Leaventhorpe and Marshall. Closer and closer, until the red 
eyes of the North glared into the red eyes of the South, and sword 
clashed against sword and bayonet crossed bayonet, and pistol 
answered pistol. Within thirty paces these lines stood with level 
guns and poured death into each others faces. Down went the 
flag of the 26th North Carolina, another man raised it, a bullet 
went crashing through him, another man seized it, down it went 
again, down, down, down, until eleven men had fallen dead, then 
the boy hero, Col. Burgynne, seized it, waved it aloft and rolled 
over instantly with the flag winding itself round his dying form; 
forward rushed the Lieut. Colonel to lift the flag from the ground, 
when a lieutenant cried, "Don't touch that flag, it's death," but 
he waved it over his head saying, "It is my time now." 

Will the Iron Brigade never yield — will it? Yes, they give 
way, they retreat, the Iron Brigade is broken at last, and a brave 
sergeant, as he retreats, looks back and sees the towering form of 
Lieut. Col. Lane bearing the flag, and taking aim across the limb 
of a tree, sends a bullet crashing through the neck of the Southern 
officer, and he falls to the earth, the fourteenth man that fell 
carrying the flag of the 26th North Carolina regiment. 588 men 
out of 850 in that regiment fell on that battlefield in that fearful 
duel — but they broke that Iron Brigade. Ah! what a sight was 
that! Enough to make the angels weep. 

Forty years afterwards — forty times the earth had swept the 
great circle of the years around the sun — and the field of Gettys- 
burg was beautifully arrayed with flowers of summer and the 
birds sang in the woodlands, and the soft sunshine played with 
the loving breezes in the waving wheat on Cemetery Hill. It 
is the first of July, 1903, three hundred North Carolinians dressed 
in gray, old in years but young in memory of other days, stand 
around the platform erected where the lines in blue and gray 
crossed bayonets and the flag lovingly enfolded the boyish form 
of Harry Burgynne forty years before. Suddenly a large fine 

145 



looking man with gray beard and hair, clothed in gray uniform, 
mounts the platform from one side; another splendid looking man 
with the marks of the years on his face and wearing a blue uniform 
climbed up on the other side, led by a man in black. The gray 
and the blue advanced and met and looked into each others eyes, 
and clasp hands, and the man in blue says, "J thank God that I 
didn't kill you forty years ago." The man in gray was Lieut. 
Col. Lane, who fell, the fourteenth man carrying the flag of his 
regiment; and the man in blue was the northern sergeant who 
sent the bullet crashing through his neck, and the man in black 
was a brother of Harry Burgynne, the boy Colonel who fell with 
his colors wound round him. 

What wonders cannot time and the rolling years produce. 

The first day of this great battle closed with a victory of half 
of the Southern army over half of the Northern army, and thous- 
ands of Americans lay dead upon the field around the Pennsyl- 
vania village. A heroic picture rises before my eyes now and 
mournful music floats over my heart as I gaze upon a long line 
of noble forms in regular battalion formation, with a fair-haired 
boy in their midst, so still as though dreaming of his loved ones 
in old Randolph County. Surely they will rise at the sound of 
the bugle at reveille and charge again upon the countless enemy. 
No, no, like the Old Guard of Napoleon, "they sleep their last 
sleep, they have fought their last battle, no sound can awake them 
to glory again." Two hundred and forty young North Carolinians, 
the second battalion, under their boyish Lieut. Col. Lee Andrews, 
my classmate at college, were placed in line of battle, and at 
nightfall they had met the enemy and held their ground, but oh 
pitiful sight! While forty of them were standing with their 
rifles firmly grasped and their pale faces set, two hundred of them 
were stretched upon the field bleeding or dead and the boy com- 
mander in his bright uniform with his sword by his side had given 
up his life for his country. The shades of night overspread the 
landscape. Armies from the South and the West and the North 
were hurrying to join in the battle of to-morrow which was to 
decide the fate of millions of people. As the sun rose over the 
eastern hills on the 2nd day of July, 1863, the thunder of cannon 

146 



echoed along the valleys and ridges as Lee hurled his legions 
against Meade's entrenched hosts, and the great General W. D. 
Pender, young and gallant, was hurled from his horse by a cannon 
ball as he galloped over the field. 

Away to the right Longstreet was leading his men against 
Sickles, and the hosts occupying the hills, and the cannons and 
the muskets and rifles were covering the ground with the dead 
while the sound of the conflict resembled a battle of contending 
clouds as lightning flashed, crossed and recrossed, pierced oppos- 
ing clouds and thunder answered thunder. Farther to the right 
Hood, the immortal, at the head of his Texans was charging 
Little Round Top and was making the "century reel" as bayonets 
crossed bayonets and the rebel yell answered the hoarse thunder 
of the cannon. But Hood fell and the Texans lost their great 
leader. 

Again the curtain of night came down over the earth and dark- 
ness hid twice ten thousand fallen heroes, while the air was charged 
with the shrieking and moans of agonizing warriors, bleeding in 
the valleys and on the hillsides of Gettysburg. On the third day 
of battle and the 3rd of July, 75,000 Northmen stretched along 
the long bending sides of the ridge to the eastward while 200 can- 
nons frowned down across the valleys, and 50,000 Southerners 
stood in serried ranks on the opposing hills and 200 cannons, 
looked savagely across the valley at the enemy and neither army 
would yield, for Lee and Meade determined to fight it out across 
this valley. As the sun crossed the meridian of this hot July 
day, two hundred cannons burst forth in awful grandeur from 
the south tearing to pieces the ranks and guns of the enemy on 
the opposite ridge, and immediately two hundred cannons an- 
swered back from Gettysburg to Round Top. Four hundred guns 
shook the earth, testifying to the awful work of man as they grap- 
pled each other by the throats. For two hours the contending 
armies sustained this pandemonium of death, then a sight to make 
a nation weep burst upon the view; 15,000 Virginians, North Car- 
olinians, Tennesseeians and Mississippians under Pickett and Petti- 
grew and Trimble and Lane and Lowrance and Armstead and 
Garnet t and Kemper, swept down into the valley of death with 

147 



long measured step and glittering bayonets, for Longstreet had 
ordered Pickett forward and Pettigrew had galloped up to Mar- 
shall, the commander of his brigade that fought the immortal 
duel two days before, and, with flashing eyes and flushed cheek, 
his soft voice rings out, "And now, Colonel, for the honor of the 
good old North State, Forward." Down the long hills and across 
the valley they marched to death, the cannons hurl their 
shrieking shells through them, the rifles send their vicious balls 
among them, the ranks are plowed through and through, men are 
scattered, dead and bleeding over the valley. Still they march 
with steady steps and pale faces. "Close up! Close up!" ring out 
the voices of their commanders. Lee, Longstreet and Hill are 
gazing upon the awful scene from Seminary Ridge, and Meade 
and Hancock and Slocum and Howard are guiding the hosts on 
Cemetery Ridge. Forward across the valley, forward up the 
hill, Pickett's Virginians rushed to the wall, down goes Kemper, 
down goes Garnett. See that General with his hat upon his sword 
as he leaps the walls into the midst of the foes and goes down to 
death — the immortal Armstead. See Pettigrew and Lane and 
Lowrance rush for the enemy behind the stone wall. Now death 
rides upon the breeze and every second scores of warriors fall. 
"Guns to the right of them, guns to the left of them, guns in front 
of them, volleyed and thundered." Pettigrew falls but rises again, 
his charger lying dead. Lowrance is bleeding. The great hosts 
of the North are surging forward, surrounding the remnants of 
the 15,000 Southerners. The plains and hillsides are covered 
with the slain, and sadly and sternly, the Virginians and the 
Carolinians and Tennesseeians and Mississippians, what is left, 
march back across the blood red plain to meet their great com- 
mander and hear him say, "Rally my men, help me out of 
this difficulty! It is my fault." 

Call the roll of the 26th North Carolina regiment, Harry 
Burgynne's regiment that fought the duel with the Iron Brigade. 
850 names are called, 86 answered. The rest are killed and wounded. 
Call the roll of Company F — 91 names are called. Not a man 
answered, every one killed or wounded. Who calls the roll? 
The first sergeant, who sits against a tree with his arm broken. 

148 



In one company are three sets of twins. At nightfall five of them 
are dead. 

At midnight that woeful day two solitary horsemen sat on 
their steeds in the midst of that great battle plain. Only the dead 
and wounded were there 1 — the moans and the cries of 30,000 men 
pierced the air, while many thousands lay still in death. One of 
those horsemen was the leader of the Southern army. His plans 
had failed; his tremendous efforts were unsuccessful; more than 
20,000 of his Southern soldiers had gone down on the bloody field 
in obeying his orders. He saw the empire slipping from his grasp. 
He saw a million of ghosts rising from a thousand battlefields, 
and a lost cause sinking behind the mountains at Appomattox. 
Then his head sank upon his breast and from the depth of a broken 
heart he cried, "Too bad! Too bad!" 

Turning to General Imboden, the other horseman, he said, 
"Gather up the wounded, collect the wagons and ambulances, 
and start for the Potomac, I place them under your charge," 
and the next night, at the close of the 4th of July, the saddest 
anniversary of American Independence since 1776, the army 
of Northern Virginia, under General Lee, commenced its retreat, 
preceded by ten thousand wounded. 

By day and by night, without halting, they marched south- 
ward toward the Potomac, sad over unavailing heroism and sac- 
rifices but defiant and with unabated courage. The rains poured 
down from the gloomy clouds as though weeping over misfortunes. 
Long stretching miles were crowded with ambulances filled with 
the wounded, every jolt, every mudhole producing agony and 
causing groans and shrieks and cries. In one ambulance side by 
side lay Pender and Scales, my Major General and Brigadier 
General, the one mortally wounded and soon to die, and the other 
to rise again to face the enemy and become Governor of his State. 
Further on, tossed from side to side, is the heroic form of Hampton, 
the great cavalryman. In another are Belo and Conally, one shot 
through the body and the other with his arm shot off — two young 
North Carolinians whom I knew well; and thus the procession 
climbed the mountains, descended into the valleys, hungry, weary, 
wounded, groaning, shrieking; and the army, attacked on all 

149 



sides by the enemy's cavalry, and pursued by Meade's great host, 
bent its head to the storm, and with stern faces marched on, on, 
and on to the Southland. Stuart at the head of his horsemen 
rushed upon the pursuing enemy day and night, and Pettigrew 
with the remnant of his heroes, sternly covered the retreat. Wagons 
were overturned, dead horses and men marked the bloody route, 
conflagration lit up the darkness of the night and the army with 
Lee and Longstreet and Hill and Ewell and Stuart reached the 
banks of the Potomac after a week's dreadful suffering, and found 
the great river raging and there was no way of crossing. Did 
they despair? Did they surrender? They formed a line of battle, 
planted their artillery, and faced about to meet the enemy. A 
few days and the water subsided and the heroic army once more 
stood upon the Southern banks of the Potomac. But a hero had 
fallen before he had crossed over. Pettigrew the brilliant scholar, 
and warrior, standing between his retreating comrades and the 
charging enemy, gave his life for the safety of Lee and his men, 
and thus fell the man who was victorious in the great duel with the 
Iron Brigade and the greatest hero of the battle. This was the 
greatest and most terrible battle ever fought on this side of the 
globe, for Lee had staked the independence of the South upon this 
issue, and how long and fiercely he and his paladins fought to win 
the impossible! It is a sorrowful memory to me as I look back 
through the mists of the years, for Pettigrew was my first Colonel, 
Scales my Brigadier General. Pender was my Major General, 
and Leaventhorpe was my intimate friend and I commanded a 
regiment in his brigade. 

The sun of the Confederacy had reached its zenith as Lee faced 
Meade at Gettysburg and it began to descend towards the west- 
ern horizon as the steps of the Southern army turned towards the 
plains of Virginia. For two years more this matchless army 
fought until the guns of the enemy on a hundred more battle- 
fields had covered the land with its dead, and starvation had made 
an army of skeletons — then the end came, and there was a dead 
nation. 



150 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Stonewall Jackson. 

In the early spring of 1861, a man sat in one of the section 
rooms of a school in the valley of Virginia. He was quiet, studious, 
serious, thoughtful. He was tall, handsome, and powerfully built, 
but thin. He had brown hair and a brown beard. His mouth 
expressed great determination. The lips were thin and compressed 
firmly together; his eyes were blue and dark, with keen and search- 
ing expression. He was thirty-five years of age. He was modest 
and religious. He was a teacher in the Institute, in Sunday School, 
and a leader in religious exercises. But few people knew him 
in his own State ; very few had ever heard of him beyond the bor- 
ders of Virginia, and outside of the nation his name was almost 
totally unheard of. Two years after this, in the spring of 1863, 
on the 10th day of May, in company with my brother, I was walk- 
ing along a country road near Guinney Station, near the Rappa- 
hannock River, near Fredericksburg, Virginia, near Chancellors- 
ville, on our way to take from a soldier's grave my brother, Col- 
C. C. Cole, who had fallen in battle and had been buried in a 
blanket of a soldier without a coffin. We stopped in front of a 
house on the roadside and gazed with sad hearts at the silent and 
mournful surroundings. With bowed heads we passed on and were 
hailed by a private soldier from Alabama who was standing near 
the road cleaning his gun. His face showed trouble and anxiety. 
"Is it true that Stonewall Jackson is dead?" he earnestly asked. 
"Yes," we replied, "it is true, we have just come from the house 
where he died." With his face upturned and pale, he cried out, 
"Great God!" It was the cry of distress, it was the moan of des- 
pair, and it was the echo from every heart of the South. Only 
two years had passed since that quiet teacher sat in his section 
room in Lexington, Virginia, unknown, only two springs with 
their flowers, only two summers with their harvests, only two 
autumns with their golden leaves, and only two winters with their 
beautiful snow had come and gone and he lay dead with his mar- 
tial cloak around him and a great people wept and a nation mourned 
and a world was stunned by a great calamity. Why this great 

151 



change? What had happened during these two years that made 
this revolution in feeling and thought? The modest teacher had 
died the great patriot and the invincible warrior. His fame was 
in every land and on every tongue. It was sung with the early 
dawn in the East ; it followed the footsteps of the sun as he crossed 
the pathway of the heavens and was echoed back from the halls 
of the golden west. Forty-two years after I stood before that sad 
house and heard the distressing cry of the Alabama soldier, I 
made a pilgrimage from my distant home to the tomb of this man. 
Alone and with head uncovered and with beating heart I gazed 
once more with the eyes of memory and love upon the form of 
my old commander. There he lay only six feet from me. I could 
hear his soft voice in prayer; I could hear his stern command; 
I could see his blue eyes flash; I could see his arm thrown out as 
if he would sweep his enemies from the earth; I could see him as 
he dashed along his battle front on his charger and led his soldiers 
to victory; I could hear his stern command, "Sir, we will give 
them the bayonet!" and then I could see him as he entered the 
cold waters and softly and joyously whispered, "Let us cross over 
the river and rest in the shade of the trees." 

On the 21st of January, 1824, among the mountains of western 
Virginia, Thomas Jonathan Jackson was born. His ancestors were 
strong and honorable men — brave and patriotic soldiers. His 
mother died when he was two years of age. He was thus left 
an orphan in childhood and grew up without a helping hand or 
loving heart to break the rigors of a hard life in the backwoods 
of his State. He learned to wield the ax in the forests and to fol- 
low the plow in the new grounds in the hills. Without any ad- 
vantages of schools or church or society he was thrown upon his 
own responsibilities, and, in the silence of the woods on the banks 
of the rivers, among the towering mountains, under the blue hea- 
vens, listening to the songs of the birds, he studied nature and 
through nature, nature's God. Here his character was formed 
without polish, without veneering, strong, like the hills, and per- 
severing like the waters that go on forever. Anxious to be some- 
thing and do something in the world, he secured an appointment 
to West Point, the national school for soldiers. Though unpre- 

152 






pared, he was admitted on trial — standing at the foot of his class. 
At the end of the first year he had passed a number of his class 
mates. At the end of the second year, he had left a third of his 
class mates behind ; at the end of the third year only one fourth 
were ahead of him, and when he graduated, he was among the 
foremost, and it was conceded that if there had been a fifth year 
he would have stood first. It was because of his ambition and 
indomitable will and his great perseverance. Now at the age of 
22 he was made Brevet Second Lieutenant of Artillery and joined 
General Scott at Vera Cruz for the invasion of Mexico. He par- 
ticipated in the battles of Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Cherubusco and 
the siege of the City of Mexico, where he especially distinguished 
himself in many battles. When the city had fallen and General 
Scott gave a reception to the officers of the army, among others 
presented to the Commander-in-Chief was Lieut. Jackson. When 
his name was called, General Scott drew himself to his full height, 
six feet five inches, put his hands behind him and, sternly looking 
at him, said, "I don't know that I ought to shake hands with 
Lieut. Jackson. Sir, don't you think you ought to feel ashamed 
the way you slaughtered those poor Mexicans with your guns!" 
Then smiling at the abashed young officer, he extended his hand. 
It was the way the Commander-in-Chief took to call special at- 
tention to the skill and gallantry of Lieut. Jackson. In this war 
Lieut. Jackson was promoted oftener than any other officer, re- 
turning to his country a major in the regular army. 

When Major Jackson was 25 years of age he was elected a 
professor in the Virginia Military Institute. He remained here 
ten years until he offered his services to his State after her se- 
cession from the Union. 

From that time till his death he was the hero of the South, 
the right arm of Lee. He was distinguished in the battle of Man- 
assas, the Valley Campaign, where he, at the head of his army, 
gained many victories, at the seven days battle around Richmond, 
at Cedar Mountain, Second Manassas, Harper's Ferry, Sharps- 
burg, Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. 

When Jackson died the South felt a shock and shiver as of 
an earthquake. There was still the grand army of Northern 

153 



Virginia, ready to die at the command of its leaders; there still 
lived Lee and Longstreet and Hill and Stuart and Johnston and 
Hood and Beauregard, and a hundred patriotic generals, but the 
Stonewall of the South had crumbled, the sword of the great 
Ironside was broken, the man who could not be conquered was dead, 
Lee's strong arm was crushed. There was no one left capable of 
executing the commands of the Commander-in-Chief. "Such an 
executive officer the sun never shone on. I have but to show him 
my design, and I know that, if it can be done, it will be done. No 
need for me to send or watch him. Straight as the needle to the 
pole he advances to the execution of my purpose/ ' Such were the 
words of Lee. "Could I have directed events, I should have chosen 
for the good of my country, to have been disabled in your stead." 
This the great commander wrote to the wounded General. 

In the scriptures we are taught that "evil communications 
corrupt good manners/' If this be true it must equally be true 
that association and communication with the wise, the good and 
the great will reflect to some extent at least their wisdom, their 
goodness, and their greatness. And the proudest thought in the 
minds of every true Southern soldier is the cherished memory 
of having followed their great leader and proved themselves 
worthy to receive the praise of Lee and Jackson. Looking back- 
ward over the pathway of many years from the hill tops of old 
age, and reviewing the events of the past as memory brings them 
back to me, there is nothing in my life of which I am so proud 
as that I was a soldier of the South under Lee, and I rejoice that 
I knew him and Jackson and Hill and Pender and Pettigrew and 
Scales and Leaventhorpe and Branch, for these were my comman- 
ders, with my brother, and all of these but one fell on the bloody 
battlefield. Following these great and good men, warriors and 
Christians and patriots and heroes, I could not fail to see and 
appreciate and understand their great virtue. 



154 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

A Look at Texas. 
Address before the Faculty and Students of the Baptist University, 
by request of the President. By CoL J. R. Cole. 

If some Hercules would seize the State of Texas on the western 
border about El Paso and lift it a thousand miles high, turning 
it on a pivot at Texarkana, and let it fall crashing to the east- 
ward, it would cover the great States of Arkansas, Louisiana, 
Mississippi, Alabama and Georgia, dam up the waters of the mighty 
Mississippi and land El Paso in the Atlantic Ocean. And if the 
same Hercules would seize Texas at Texarkana and lift her 1000 
miles high and turn her on a pivot at El Paso, she would hide the 
setting sun, crush the life out of New Mexico, Arizona and Cali- 
fornia, dam up the great canons and the Colorado and land East 
Texas in the Pacific Ocean. Its territory is more extensive than 
France or Germany and more than three times the size of Eng- 
land, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. It is destined to be the giant 
among the American States in influence, power and population 
as it is now in size. The history of Texas is interesting and in- 
spiring, and cannot fail to make every citizen proud to proclaim 
himself a Texan. 

Not long after the sails of Columbus were seen among the 
seas of the West India Islands in 1492, a band of nearly 1000 
Spaniards under Cortez, one of the boldest of all the warlike 
adventurers that swept the Atlantic in the early years of the 16th 
century, landed upon the shores of Mexico and, after a remark- 
able and heroic struggle, conquered that country and added it 
to the dominion of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. In the course 
of time, the Spaniards spread over the whole country, extending 
their conquests to the northward into what is now known as 
New Mexico and Texas. Strange as it may seem to us now, the 
first settlements in Texas were made nearly a thousand miles 
from the Gulf of Mexico and a thousand miles from the Pacific 
Ocean, near the center of the Continent, among the sandy 
deserts and wild Indians of the unknown west where El Paso, 
the Queen of the Rio Grande, bathes her feet in the yellow waters 

155 



of the grand river and rests her head in the arms of the rugged 
mountains. The Catholic priests and missionaries invaded the 
western land in their religious gowns and carried the cross among 
the wild savage Indians. This was about 1580, and one hundred 
years afterwards the first white settlement was made by a dis- 
tinguished French navigator, the Chevalier La Salle, at Lavaca, 
on the southern coast of the State. This country was then the 
home of numerous Indian tribes whose history is unknown and 
whose traditions cannot trace them to their origin. From that 
date down to the last quarter of the nineteenth century, within 
the memory of thousands now living, fierce and savage wars have 
been waged between the aborigines and the white race ; the toma- 
hawk, the scalping knife, and the sharp lance of the Indians have 
made the homes of the white man desolate and given bloody names 
to a thousand localities. Among such scenes and under such diffi- 
culties did the original white inhabitants of this State live, and 
such was the experience that wrought out such heroes and gave 
to Texas a name for manhood and bravery that is unsurpassed 
in the history of the world. 

The Spaniards claimed the country and settled in it. The 
French claimed the country because of the landing of La Salle 
in Southern Texas, but La Salle was treacherously murdered by 
one of his own followers and no great progress was made by the 
French nation in planting colonies. San Antonio was founded about 
1680, at the same time that Philadelphia was established by William 
Penn. When Mexico threw off the yoke of her mother country, 
Spain, and established an independent government, along in the 
early part of the 19th century, Texas remained a part of Mexico. 
About 1820 and 1821, Moses Austin and his son, Stephen F. Austin, 
two strong American citizens from New England, planned to 
establish a colony of Americans in the territory of Texas, and 
procured the desired permission and rights from the Mexican 
government. Moses Austin having died, his son Stephen F. 
Austin successfully carried out the plan and the colony was es- 
tablished. The richness of the soil, the beauty of the country and 
the delightful climate becoming known to the people of the United 
States, many daring and adventurous citizens of the great northern 



156 






Republic, with their families, sought homes in this sunny land. 
Trouble arose between the liberty-loying Americans and the Mexi- 
can government and, finally, in 1836, the people assembled and 
took up arms , battles were fought and independence from Mexican 
domination was declared. Sam Houston, a former Governor of 
Tennessee, was placed at the head of the little Texas army. Travis, 
Crockett, Bowie, Bonham and 182 immortal heroes and patriots 
fortified themselves at the Alamo, in San Antonio. Santa Anna, 
the Dictator of Mexico, who boasted of being the Napoleon of 
the west, crossed the Rio Grande with 7000 soldiers to subdue the 
patriots. He demanded the surrender of the Alamo on pain of 
death to every man if they refused to surrender. One hundred 
and eighty-two against seven thousand. 

For many days and nights Santa Anna bombarded the walls 
of the Alamo, but the Texans never thought of surrender. Finally 
the Mexican Dictator formed his army in stern array to storm 
the fort and the Texans knew that the death struggle was about 
to commence. Col. Travis, the American commander, drew a 
line with his sword and told his men that the time to die for their 
country had come, and he wanted every man who was willing 
to die fighting the enemy rather than surrender to cross that line. 
But if anyone wished to try to escape he was at liberty to make the 
attempt. Every man but one promptly stepped across and Col. 
Bowie, the famous fighter and inventor of the Bowie Knife, lying 
on his sick bed, asked his commander to carry him across. One 
man alone made his escape by leaping from the walls and dodging 
the Mexicans; his name was Rose. On came the 7000 Mexicans; 
they were received by a murderous fire by the 181 Texans and were 
hurled from the walls. Again they rushed forward at the stern 
command of Santa Anna, and again they were crushed under 
the withering fire of Travis and his heroes. Every Texan was 
a hunter and a marksman and every rifle sent a winged messenger 
of death among the swarming ranks of the enemy. The third 
time Santa Anna formed his cavalry and artillery in rear of his 
columns with the stern command to cut down his own infantry 
if they failed to go over the wall and the charge was sounded, the 
desperate men rushed forward falling by hundreds before the 

157 



unerring rifles and grappled in hand to hand combat with gun 
and sword and knife, beating back and crushing the small band of 
patriots. Travis fell, Bonham fell, and one by one they died as 
they fought, and Crockett, the great hunter, the eloquent back- 
woodsman from Tennessee, was pierced by many swords as he 
rushed upon Santa Anna to take his life. When every Texan was 
dead the storm ceased, and there was never a nobler sacrifice made 
upon the altar of any country. I saw the monuments of these 
heroes in the old capitol at Austin forty years ago, with the names 
of the 181 men written on the bronze, and Travis and Crockett 
and Bowie and Bonham more conspicuous, as commanders. This 
monument crumbled into ashes more than a quarter of a century 
ago when the old capitol was destroyed by fire. But another 
monument stands in the beautiful capitol grounds as a testi- 
monial of our love for these heroes who gave their lives for our 
liberty. A short time after this Col. Fannin with 300 men, after 
fighting heroically all day against overwhelming numbers, sur- 
rendered to the Mexican commander on terms granting life and 
liberty to return to their friends. When disarmed they were 
marched out and shot like dogs by the butchers from Mexico. 
These disasters and the great inferiority of Houston's army caused 
him to retreat, and he fell back before the advancing enemy until 
they reached the San Jacinto river, when he halted his army, 
cut down a bridge behind him and announced that, with his 750 
men, he intended to attack Santa Anna and his 1500 veterans. 
With rifle and pistol and bowie knife they charged upon the enemy 
with the fierce cry of "Remember the Alamo," and in twenty 
minutes 700 Mexicans were dead and their army routed and, later, 
Santa Anna was captured. This battle was one of the decisive 
battles of the world, for it gained the independence of a nation. 
From this date, April 21st, 1836, Texas was a Republic, recog- 
nized by the great nations of the world, with its presidents and 
congress and foreign ministers. In 1845 Texas asked to become 
one of the States of the American Union and was admitted, and 
added one more star to the flag of our country. This brought on 
the Mexican war, and the Texans that won their independence 
in 1836 now marched by the side of the soldiers of her sister States 

158 



against her old enemy; and at Monterey and Buena Vista and 
many other fields added honor and fame to her already glorious 
record. 

In 1861, believing that her institutions and liberty weie en- 
dangered by the central government at Washington and sectional 
threats from the North, the people of Texas seceded from the 
the American Union and joined the other Southern States in es- 
tablishing a separate Confederacy. The struggle for the four 
years was the bloodiest ever fought by a free people, and 500 
battlefields, covered by hundreds of thousands of dead and wounded 
patriots, bore testimony to the heroism of both sides. Texans, 
as usual, were in the front where danger and honor were to be 
found, and the poet declared that Hood and his Texans made 
the " Century reel on the heights of Little Round Top at Gettys- 
burg." No greater heroes were in that dread struggle than Albert 
Sidney Johnston, Jno. B. Hood, andGranberry — all Texans. Then 
the flag was furled, and the remnants of the armies that went cut 
to fight for their States returned to their wasted homes to fight 
for a living against poverty. The ten years following the close 
of the war were known as the period of Reconstruction, under 
the Federal soldiers, the carpet baggers and negro rule, and a black 
mark of shame has been drawn around these years. But time 
rolled on, and the stars moved, and the white race came to the 
front and Texas grew and grew and the best and noblest from the 
old States and Europe came to our borders and crossed over and 
made homes — and here is Texas to-day, and who would give her 
for any land beneath the bright rays of the sun! 

During the many years which I have spent in this glorious 
land I have seen and become acquainted with, and gladly know 
as my friends, many of the great men of this State who rank as 
statesmen and warriors and patriots and scholars and orators. 
Throckmorton and Hancock and Ross and Roberts and Hubbard 
and Maxey and Hare and Lubbock and Hood and Reagan and 
many others. 

Now look at our beautiful country! Though she has heard 
the warwhoop of the savage and felt the scalping knife; though 
the iron heel of the Mexican tyrant, with his band of butchers, 

159 



has trampled upon the fair bosom of her soil; though war's red 
banners have been borne by her sons upon prostrate States and 
have gone down before the cannon of a million of enemies; though 
the rapacity, and robbery of political buccaneers have wounded 
her from border to border; though vengeful nature has sent its 
cyclones to seize her beautiful towns and hamlets and scatter them 
over the plains; though droughts and epidemics have laid their 
scorching and malarial hands upon our land and homes; though 
the winds have howled and raged, and the storms have stamped 
their feet, and the ocean has reared its angry waves and swept 
thousands of her noble sons and beautiful daughters to death in 
her city beside the ;ea — yet, facing all these, grappling with all 
these, look at our beautiful land now! Embraced by the Red 
River on the North, clasped in the arms of the Grand River of the 
South, pressed by the Sabine on the East and kissed by the setting 
sun! More than a third of a century ago I crossed over the bor- 
ders of Texas, coming from the battlefields of the 60's, and as my 
horse bore me through the piney woods of Eastern Texas and I 
breathed the odor of "tar, pitch and turpentine/ ' and gazed up 
at the tall straight trees of thu forest, I felt that I was still in the 
old Carolina State. But when the broad prairies burst upon my 
view and the rolling billows on the undulating hills, covered with 
waving grass, met my ravished sight, and I saw the cattle on a 
thousand hills, and the flowers decked every valley and nodded 
and laughed and made love to one another, I thought I was in 
the Garden of Eden. As my gaze swept around the distant hori- 
zon, lit up with golden sunbeams, I beheld a traveler, dilapidated 
and ragged, his head bound around with a handkerchief to resist 
the norther that was whistling from the Arctic regions, his horse 
was poor and sorrowful, and I thought, "Yes, this is the Garden of 
Eden and there is — Adam." But I didn't see any Eve. "She may 
be out in the orchard." I said, " Where are you from?" and he 
answered, "I am from Arkansas where all darned fools come from." 
Now, understand, that is what Adam said. I do not endorse his 
opinion of Arkansas. 

Now survey the glories of this great State, with her colleges, 
universities, churches and railroads. She is the gateway from the 



160 



; 



Atlantic to the Pacific and from the Occident to the Orient. She 
is the gateway from the great Republic of the North to the Re- 
public of the Montezumas. She throws wide open her portals 
to the western plains that stretch from the Rocky Mountains to 
the Mexican Gulf, and her commerce and travel will soon bring 
together the East and the West through the Isthmian Canal. 
Her climate invites the brave and refined of the world and rewards 
them with health and pleasure and delight. A climate where 
spring and autumn laugh among the flowers and golden grain and 
snowy cotton and silken corn and apple blossoms and southern 
breezes — where winter and summer shake hands across the tropics 
and the smiling sunbeams kiss the fair cheek of the snowdrop. 

In the hazy gloaming of a summer's evening, I stood upon 
the bridge that spanned the Rio Grande and united the two great 
American Republics, where El Paso looks across at Juarez. The 
blue skies bent down the heavens and placed the circular horizon 
upon the distant mountains. The breezes began to toss the 
branches of the forests and clouds to gather over the city. The 
storm god turned loose his red artillery, the lightnings blazed around 
the hill tops, the thunder ground arms in the mountains, the even- 
ing sky painted pictures more beautiful than mortal hands could 
paint, the weird shadows played and leaped along the lofty ridges 
like silent sentinels guarding a sleeping landscape, the western 
sun peeped down the valley and threw kisses through the moun- 
tain mists at the lovely daughters of this beautiful city, and I 
thought, "Surely westward the star of empire takes its way and has 
made its home forever in this beautiful land." 

I sat upon the flower covered veranda in our Capital city as the 
sun went down behind the lofty peaks of Mt. Bonnel. To the 
westward was the noble University of Texas, the pride of every 
Texan. Before me stood the great state Capitol building, 

"Lofty and lifeless and pale in the sky 
Like the ghost of a giant creation gone by," 

lifting its dome to the heavens and bearing aloft the goddess of 
Liberty with the Star of Texas, the Lone Star, in her uplifted 
hand. A little cloud came peeping from behind the hills of the 

161 



murmuring Colorado, the city was preparing to go to rest and 
dream to the music of the rippling streams that laughed down 
the valleys; the electric lights were glimmering in a thousand 
homes, and love was telling its soft story in gentle whispers under 
many a green bower. The cloud climbed the skies, the stars fled 
from sight, the dread guns of war began to thunder in the heavens. 
The dark storm wrapped its angry arms around the proud Capitol 
and wrestled with the Goddess of Liberty, while the wind raged 
and shrieked and the torrents poured down their floods. Surely 
the thunder will shake the hills and the lightnings will shatter 
the noble form that lifts on high the Star of Texas. 

Now the rains begin to come down more gently and the winds 
cease to be angry; the lightnings hide their fiery glance behind 
the hills and the thunder goes growling beyond the distant moun- 
tains — the moon comes smiling out, dancing in the skies, the stars 
peep from behind the little clouds and laugh at the retreating 
thunder and — there, before me, stands the grand Capitol, and 
there stands the Goddess of Liberty, and there shines the Lone 
Star of Texas — the emblems of her strength, of her constancy, 
and of her power forever. 




162 



CHAPTER XXV. 

A Birds-Eye Vtew of Our Country. 
Address to Students of Baptist University by Prof. J. R. Cole. 

The United States of America, as it exists to-day, consti- 
tuting one of the most powerful and enlightened nations of the 
world, began its existence as an infant more than three hundred 
years ago. Christopher Columbus, the Genoese sailor and nav- 
igator, with his scientific mind, his brave heart, and his prophetic 
eye saw across the mysterious waters a new land and people or 
a new way to an old land and people, and setting sail towards 
the sunset he plowed the great deep, following the course of the 
stars until the twinkling lights moving along the horizon notified 
him that he had found a way to the East by way of the West. 
After he had blazed the way across the highway of the broad 
Atlantic, navigators from nearly all the nations of Europe followed 
in his footsteps — Spaniards, Portuguese, French, English, Nor- 
wegians, and Dutch, and America, which took its name from 
Americus Vespucius, was visited and settled during the next hun- 
dred years almost from pole to pole. The Spaniards settled that 
part of the United States bordering on the Gulf of Mexico — Texas,. 
Louisiana and Florida; the English along the Atlantic from Geor- 
gia to the frozen north. The French occupied Canada and along 
the great lakes and the Mississippi Valley. A new and unknown 
race of people, different from any known to Europeans, were found 
upon the Western Hemisphere, scattered from ocean to ocean 
and under tribal government mostly through Mexico and Peru. 
They had strong governments and a civilization equal to that of 
some latids on the Eastern Hemisphere. 

During the 17th century, all the Atlantic country, afterwards 
a part of the United States, was settled by the English and other 
people. Wars with the Indians and French were waged and the 
English boundaries extended until 1776, when her thirteen col- 
onies, belonging to the British Empire, feeling oppressed and badly 
treated by the Mother Country, resolved to be free and establish 
an independent republic on this continent. 

163 



The Puritans of New England, the Dutch of New York, the 
Quakers of Pennsylvania, the Swedes of Delaware, the Catholics 
of Maryland, the English of Virginia, the Huguenots of South Caro- 
lina all united to strike for freedom. You will note the miscel- 
laneous nationalities that made up our country. Patrick Henry's 
voice crying, "Give me liberty or give me death/' aroused the 
sleeping patriotism of the thirteen colonies. Thomas Jefferson 
of Virginia wrote the Declaration of Independence. John Adams 
of Massachusetts defended the principles of human liberty in the 
halls of Congress; Benjamin Franklin of Pennsylvania threw the 
weight of his wisdom and great character against tyranny, and 
George Washington's sword cut the gordian knot of despotism 
and set free a nation of patriots. Battles were fought and the 
cannons roar and the savage yell of the Indian were heard from 
Canada to the Gulf of Mexico, from Lexington to Yorktown, 
from Quebec to Savannah, from Saratoga to King's Mountain. 
Every wind from the icy north and every breeze from the sunny 
south bore upon their wings the clash of arms and the shout of 
victory or the cry of defeat. For seven years the sword of Washing- 
ton and Greene and Morgan and La Fayette flashed and the thun- 
der of cannon under Howe and Clinton and Cornwallis shook the 
hills and plains — and then the storm passed, the winds blew away 
the smoke of battle, and the sun arose upon a free people. That 
was about 130 years ago and the American Eagle has taken the 
place of the British Lion, and the four million of people along the 
Atlantic slope have multiplied until they now number ninety 
millions, and stretch from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the 
Alleghanies to the Rocky Mountains, and the great lakes of the 
north reach out their long arms to the Mississippi and shake hands 
with the warm Gulf Stream of the tropics. 

In 1787, four years after peace was made with Great Britain, 
the Colonies met by delegates in Convention to formulate and 
adopt a Constitution binding them together in a Confederation 
of States or nation, and the gi*eat Virginian, George Washington, 
was elected President of that Convention, and Hamilton and 
Madison and Franklin were among the distinguished members. 
There were many different opinions as to the kind of government 



164 



i 



that ought to be established. Some wished a strong central 
power in the general government; others wished the States to 
have sovereignty in local matters with power to nullify or restrain 
the actions of the central government, and it was found to be nec- 
essary to compromise in many instances where different opinions 
and interests prevailed, but in the all important principle of the 
power of the States and general government no compromise could 
be effected and the constitution was formed so as to let that be con- 
strued by each State for itself. And. from this want of agreement 
flowed, in after years, disasters more direful than any that ever 
sprung from Pandora's box or Troy's bloody plains. In 1789, 
the government of the United States went into operation, with 
Washington still at the helm and guiding the ship of state. Adams 
succeeded Washington as President, and was in turn succeeded by 
Jefferson. It was by this administration, a little over a hundred 
years ago, that the Louisiana territory, belonging to France, was 
purchased, thereby extending the boundaries of our country to the 
Pacific Ocean, doubling our territory and giving us the full control 
of 'the mighty Mississippi, and allowing its waters to roll on to 
the Mexican Gulf. 

Madison of Virginia succeeded Jefferson, and the war of 1812 
was waged against Great Britain which lasted two and a half 
years and ended with a great victory for the Americans under 
General Jackson at New Orleans, 8th of January, 1815, over an 
army of twice their number and trained under the great Duke 
of Wellington. President Roosevelt in his writings declares 
General Andrew Jackson the greatest Captain America ever pro- 
duced up to the war between the States. During the next admin- 
istration under President Monroe, the doctrine of America for 
Americans, no interference by foreign powers with the nations 
on the American continent, called the Monroe Doctrine, was pro- 
mulgated by the President and has become the accepted policy 
of the government of the United States. During the half century 
succeeding the inauguration of the first president many new States 
had been carved out of the territories and had taken their places 
under the Stars and Stripes of the nation, and many Indian wars 
had been waged as civilization drove back the original inhabi- 

165 



tants of the continent, and the Indians, a romantic, fiery, mys- 
terious race, were gradually following the sun in his westward 
course and disappearing over the hills in the sunset. 

In 1845, a new star was added to the Constitution of the Union 
— a brighter, larger, more brilliant star — the Lone Star of Texas. 
This territory was first settled by the Spaniards, who followed the 
banner and footsteps of Cortez, and San Antonio, beautiful like 
Palymra, city of the plains, was located and settled about the same 
time that William Penn, the great Quaker, settled the city of 
Philadelphia on the Delaware. During the one hundred and fifty 
years after the settlement of San Antonio, Texas was governed 
under the flags of France, Spain and Mexico; but in 1836 the op- 
pression of the Mexicans aroused the Americans who had settled 
in Texas and^ after many bloody battles, the State became an 
independent nation, recognized by the United States and other 
civilized countries. 

In 1845, Texas applied to become a State in the American 
Union and was admitted in the same year. This brought on the 
war with Mexico in 1846, while Polk was president, and the Ameri- 
can army, under Taylor, assisted by such officers as Jefferson 
Davis, Albert Sidney Johnston, Bragg, Thomas and Clay won the 
battles of Monterey and Buena Vista, and General Winfield Scott, 
with such officers as Pillow, Lee, McClellan, Beauregard, Jackson, 
Quitman and Grant defeated the enemy at Vera Cruz, Cerro 
Gordo, Cherubu$co and the City of Mexico. Peace was made 
'by Mexico surrendering Texas, California and other territory, 
thus extending our boundaries from the golden shores of the Pacific 
to the turbid waters of the Rio Grande. Up to this time, after 
an existence of sixty years, our country had given to the world 
and to history great and famous men — as warriors, Washington 
and Greene and Scott and Taylor and Andrew Jackson; as states- 
men, Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, Hamilton, Clay, Webster, Cal- 
houn; as commanders of ships and navies, Paul Jones, McDon- 
ough, Bainbridge, Perry, Lawrence, Hull and Decatur. As her 
government was an experiment which had never in all the ages 
of the past had a precedent by which to guide the footsteps of our 
fathers, many conflicting views were entertained by our states- 

166 



men — about the tariff and taxation, state and governmental 
powers, foreign politics, nullification and secession; but the most 
disturbing element, and one that struck at the very foundation 
of our social and economic system and aroused the fiercest pas- 
sions was slavery and abolitionism. The bitter agitation of this 
subject, in and out of Congress and State Legislatures, finally 
culminated in the secession from the American Union of eleven 
southern slaveholding States and the organization of a separate 
government called the "Confederate States of America." Abra- 
ham Lincoln, an abolitionist from Illinois, was elected President 
of the United States, and Jefferson Davis, a slaveholder and seces- 
sionist from Mississippi, was elected President of the Confederate 
States. War was declared, armies were raised, ships and fleets 
were built. 5,000,000 of white people in the South were arrayed 
against 21,000,000 in the North, fighting over 4,000,000 of negroes, 
who were working the lands in the southern plantations. It is 
not my purpose to argue as to which side was right — or which 
was wrong. The South fought the invader of its soil for its con- 
stitutional rights and its property inherited from their fathers 
and guaranteed by the fundamental laws of the United States. 
The North fought for the Union, to preserve the government and to 
free the slaves. Seven hundred thousand southern soldiers from 16 
to 60 years of age met in fierce battle two million seven hundred 
thousand soldiers. From 1861 to 1865 the most terrible and bloody 
battles in the history of the world were fought from the Susque- 
hanna to the Rio Grande. More than three millions of men rushed 
upon each other with cannon and rifles and bayonets and swords 
and charging squadrons, and every sea and bay and river saw the 
contending ships and heard the booming of the cannon, and every 
streamlet that gushed from the mountain side and ran to the blue 
waters of the ocean was dyed with the crimson blood of heroes 
and patriots. The pale faces of weeping women in every southern 
home were seen upturned to a merciful God praying for the safety 
and return of a husband, a father, a brother, a son; but three 
hundred thousand of the bravest and best never came back, for 
they filled bloody graves on five hundred battlefields. The illus- 
trious leaders of these great armies were from the South, Lee, 

167 



and Albert Sidney Johnston, and Joseph E. Johnston, Beauregard, 
Bragg, Jackson, Stuart, the Hills, Hood, Longstreet, Gordon, and 
Forrest; from the North were Grant, Sherman, McClellan,Thomas, 
Meade, Rosecrans and Sheridan. The war was over. The South 
was conquered. The Union was preserved. President Lincoln 
was assassinated. Grant was elected President and died among the 
mountains of New York. Garfield and McKinley were shot to 
death by two fanatical scoundrels; the Spanish war was fought and 
won, our territory extended across the seas, and to-day we have 
a united, happy and prosperous people, ninety millions strong, on 
the fairest land beneath the sun. 

Why do we love our country? Why suffer, starve, thirst, 
fight and die for our country? Our fathers did this a hundred 
years ago with Washington. Our fathers and brothers did this 
fifty years ago with Lee. Was it for the mountains, the home of 
the Eagle and the Sunset? Was it for the valley where the Lily 
dressed its beauty in dew drop to excel Solomon in all his glory? 
Was it for the rolling hills where the waters laugh and sing as 
they dance by the willows and leap over the cascade and play 
with the golden fish? Was it for the grandeur of our plains, our 
lakes, our prairies, our ocean shores where the golden sun kissed 
the homes and the landscapes in the silent morning and saluted 
the departing day in the quiet evening? Was it for the breezes 
sent from the ocean and the Gulf to cool our fevered brows and 
scatter the rain over the thirsty land? Yes, yes, this is enough 
to win our love, but this is not all. Our fathers were inspired with 
a wisdom never before given to man; and looking on high for 
guidance they saw that God's ways were the best and wisest, and 
they resolved to form their government after the architecture of 
the Solar System. They saw one great, bright, powerful luminary, 
the sun, giving light and heat and life with the powers of elec- 
tricity and gravitation to rule, to control, and to govern. They 
saw great, beautiful revolving planets giving day and night, light 
and darkness, heat and cold, spring showers and roses, fleecy 
snows and sparkling icicles; and these beautiful planets, the homes 
of mortals, prepared with wonderful love and adaptation, were 
swinging around the sun, securing light and life, and heat. And 

168 



these planets had their rights, their liberties, their spring, their 
summer, autumn and winter, their golden grain, their flower gar- 
dens, their teeming orchards, their lowing herds, their singing 
birds and all the beautiful paraphernalia of nature. But the sun 
swung its long arm of gravitation around the great system and 
said to the revolving worlds, "Keep yourselves in your orbits, 
obey the laws of electricity, gravitation and revolution, and I will 
give you life and growth and heat and light. I will protect you 
in all your rights; you may revolve, you may grow, you may enjoy 
the beauties of creation, the harmony of motion, the ecstacy of 
love and liberty.' ' So our fathers built our government. One 
general and governing luminary, the central government, the con- 
stitution to -hold the system together, to give strength, protec- 
tion, peace to the whole country; while each State can make its 
own laws, can live in peace, according to its pleasure, can build 
its railroads, its cities, its homes, but must not fly off from its orbit, 
must keep within its sphere, must live and work within the bor- 
ders of the constitution. 

Wasn't this enough to make you love your country? Yes, 
yes, yes. But look at the result — see that "old cabin home," 
with the children playing with the butterflies; look at the white 
tassle and golden silk hanging from the waving corn, look at the 
youth and maiden slowly promenading among the flowers, while 
her cheek blushes like the roses; look at that beautiful home 
where the man brought his loving bride a few years ago and wor- 
ships at the cross "under his own vine and fig tree." 

See that man flying into the heavens on the wings of the aero- 
plane into the realms of the eagle over the clouds, over the storms, 
beyond the lightning's flash in the midst of the roaring thunder 
to take a "B rds-Eye View" of our beautiful country. 

And this is the land our fathers gave us, a land of peace, 
liberty, religion, science, strong men and noble women. 

"My country, tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, 
Of thee I sing." 



169 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Fortunes of Ten Beautiful Girls. 
Ten young ladies were about to graduate, and had selected me 
as a prophet to make known to them the coming events in their 
careers. When they were assembled and a great audience filled 
the auditorium, I came forward and addressed them as follows : 

Good heavens, young ladies, what will become of you all? 
To-day, you are floating on the river of Time six thousand miles 
from its source, where the waters of life gushed from the fountains 
of Eden. You are the heirs of the ages. You are the descendants 
of one hundred and eighty generations. You are the survival of 
the fittest." Your boat is on the foremost wave of time. You are 
in the middle of Eternity. You are in the center of Infinity. The 
past has fled away from you and has crossed behind the clouds 
of oblivion. The present is here now — to-day, and you are bask- 
ing in its sunshine. The future is coming, coming from out of 
the mist. Look around you, young ladies. There is the East 
with *its golden glory; there is the West with its purple splendor; 
there is the North with its auroral sublimities; there is the South 
with its gloomy grandeur; there is the Zenith with its crown of 
silver stars. Without consulting your inclinations, without asking 
your permission, without calling a council of war, without sum- 
moning a cabinet meeting, a kind destiny has made your home in 
a land of liberty and flowers, in an era of civilization and pros- 
perity, and on the hill tops of the 19th and 20th centuries. From 
all the dark chasms and seismic disturbances of the past you have 
been protected. You were not permitted to be in Paradise when 
Satan went about like a roaring lion, or creeping among the 
flowers of the garden, or tramping around in the apple orchard. 
You were not allowed to live in the stormy days of the deluge 
and take your chances with Noah and Ham and the rest, and it 
was well, for you couldn't swim and you couldn't climb a tree, 
and they went into the Ark by couples — male and female — and 
you are not yet couples. But the bells of time kept ringing, the 
foot -print of the ages leveled the mountains and carpeted the 
valleys with flowers. Nations rose and flourished and fell; the 

170 



human race grew, increased and divided; Ethiopia presented her 
sunburned sons and daughters; the South Sea Islands her dark 
brown race; the plains of Ching, Chang, Chung, their golden-hued 
descendants of heaven; the Oriental Islands of the far away seas 
the little almond-eyed Japs, and the great white race from the 
plains of Iran went conquering to the west. But the earth was 
not yet ready for you. Alexander swept three continents for your 
coming. Hannibal made a highway over the Alps for your foot- 
steps. Caesar laid open the wilderness of Gaul and Britain for 
your march. Columbus plowed the mighty deep and discovered 
America for your inheritance, and Sam Houston struck down the 
Mexican tyrants and freed Texas for your home. Not yet is 
Destiny ready to turn over the title deeds to this fair land to you. 
The steam whistle must be heard over the hills. The lightning 
must carry messages across the mountains and among the whales 
of the great deep. The telephone must ring out its sweet and 
everlasting ''Hello" to listening ears. The phonograph must sing 
its melting song and echo the music that is thrown down its 
throat, and electric cars must dance along its iron highway and 
every hill and college hall and cathedral aisle must blaze with the 
stolen lightning of the globe — and then the earth is ready for you — 
and here you are, on time and glad that you didn't arrive any 
sooner. You have asked me to raise the veil of the future — to 
sweep aside the curtain of the marching years, to throw the sun- 
light of prophesy through the dewy mists of coming time and roll 
away the dark clouds that hang before your eyes that you may 
view and read and ponder over your destinies. My dear young 
ladies, it is a dangerous wish — it is a rash undertaking, my hand 
trembles as I seize the cords to lift the veils. My steps falter as 
I go forward to throw open the gates of the future. What shall 
we find? What shall we see? What shall we hear? Will it be 
the sweet music of the harp or the growl of thunder? Will it be 
the angelic face of love or the discord of hatred? Will it reveal 
the beautiful picture of heaven or the horrid outlines of the lost? 
Will it be laughing waters, flowery avenues and singing birds, or 
piercing thorns and screaming animals and howling storms? 



171 



But why should I fear for your fates, why dread to look upon 
the pictures of your future lives? For as ''Tis distance lends en- 
chantment to the view, And clothes the mountain in its azure 
hue," so with the loving eyes and a prayer for your happiness, I 
look over the walls of the coming years and see a silver lining in 
every cloud upon the horizon of your lives. As I gaze in your 
happy faces to-day and know that your lives will be guided by 
pure hearts and noble aspirations I recognize that you carry your 
destinies and your happiness in your own hands, For to the pure 
all things are pure, and to the true all things are true. The clear 
sweet voice of the happy maiden rising among the hills and mock- 
ing the laughing waters and floating down the valleys and an- 
swering the mocking bird, returns an echo beautiful and sweet 
and joyous like the spirit that sent it forth. So a beautiful life, a 
tender heart, a loving smile, a helping hand will echo all through 
the years and make happy the one who proves that '.'it is more 
blessed to give than receive," that the only true happiness is that 
which comes back as the echo of unselfish lives, of noble deeds 
and pure thoughts. As you pass by the mile post of the years, if 
you scatter roses you will be crowned with bouquets, if you scatter 
sunshine you will bask in the noonday splendor of happiness. If 
you send forth the music of love, you will hear the harp and angel 
voices all along the way. Then 

"Let us gather up the sunbeams 

Lying all along our path, 
Let us keep the wheat and roses, 

Casting out the thorns and chaff, 
Let us find our sweetest comfort of the blessings of to-day 

With a patient hand removing 
All the briars from the way." 

Now my sweet friends, as I am your prophet and monitor, I 
shall ask a prophetic liberty and a poetic license. I am now 
going to dismiss you for ten years. Go your way, climb, dive, 
run, play, swim. I have given you the universe. This institution 
has given you your diplomas. Nature has given you your graceful 
forms and lovely faces. Go out to conquer and to make your 

172 



fortunes and to reap the harvest sown in these halls. At the end 
of ten years, you must return and make your reports. I shall be 
standing right here on the platform, and this audience will be 
sitting where they are now sitting, a little weary maybe, but 
Rip Van Winkle slept twenty years, and we must stand and en- 
dure the passing years of one decade. And as some of you may 
be changed through the gentle touch of time; as your cheeks now 
pale with study, may become rosy by nature's handiwork; as 
your forms may be stronger and more beautiful through associa- 
tion with the sunrise, the hunter's horn, and the dew drop of the 
morning; and as some of. you may become dissatisfied with your 
names and change them, I shall request you, as you enter the 
portals of this auditorium and march down the center aisle and 
ascend the platform to wear the flower of your choice that grew 
around your homes and make your report by the roll call of your 
adopted flower. ***** 

"Ten times the earth has swung around the sun, ten times old 
winter has scattered his snow flakes over our heads. Ten times 
lovely spring has kissed old Father Time and laughed among the 
peach blossoms. Ten times ''The Good Old Summer Time" has 
stepped on the heels of yellow autumn and the golden tassel of 
the waving corn has caressed our faces as we devoured the roast- 
ing ears. But listen! I hear the faint sound of distant foot-steps. 
It comes nearer and nearer and grows louder and louder. I hear 
happy voices and see graceful forms coming two and two down 
the aisle; and here we have them on time with lovely faces as of 
yore, with blushing cheeks as of yore, with sparkling eyes as of 
yore, decorated with the lovely flowers of dewy gardens. 

My dear friends, we welcome you back to your Alma Mater 
with joy and delight, not one is missing. The years have dealt 
kindly with you. You find these walls of this noble institution 
loftier and covering these hills until a thousand students now find 
their homes among us. Your prophet is older, grayer, and weaker 
than when you left us, but his heart is in the same place it always 
was, or thereabouts. Now we are anxious to hear from you and 
I shall ask each one to hand in her report that we may know what 
the lifting of the veil has revealed to you during the last ten years. 

173 



Come forth, Red Rose, and report. Red Rose rises and 
reports. "Ten years ago with my diploma in my hand and with 
beating heart and quick step I obeyed your commands and re- 
turned to a loving father and mother, who were proud of my 
achievements in these halls of learning. I determined not to be a 
wall flower, nor a useless piece of furniture in our home; hence I 
was up with the lark and sang with the birds and made happy 
smiles come to the face of my mother, and even gave my father, 
learned in the law as he is, the benefit of my erudition. One day, 

happy day! a stranger knocked at our door — and though years 
have passed since then, he has never found it necessary to knock 
any more. Life is now sweeter to me, the flowers are more beaut- 
iful and I wear the red rose as the emblem of my heart's devotion. 
On yonder hill is my beautiful home and there is — a man in it. 
He came to consult my father about the law but seemed to be 
content with my opinions and often forgot to call for my father. 
Finally he ceased to come, for he was already there." 

We will now listen to the fair and modest Lily. "Sir, I will 
beg your indulgence for having accomplished so little of importance 
since years ago we left this delightful literary retreat. You know 

1 was taught to look upon life not as a holiday for banqueting and 
pleasure, but rather as a duty and an opportunity for noble deeds. 
I therefore returned to the work of my church, my Sunday school, 
and to the charitable duties opened to me in my city home, and 
for years found happiness in conferring blessings upon others. 
Finally I became convinced that as there were great advantages 
derived from this noble institution in the years of my association 
here, I ought to find a wider field for usefulness somewhere on the 
globe. I had a dream, a vision, and there rose up before me a far 
away land, where millions of benighted people were wandering 
in darkness and I thought I heard the plaintive voices of my 
Mongolian sisters calling me to "Come over and help them." 
And, blessing my Alma Mater for fitting me for this great work, 
I left my sweet home and my dear native land, crossed the dark 
blue sea and thus, as time rolled on, as a missionary, I have been 
scattering the good news and glad tidings along the banks of the 
murmuring Ho Ang Ho." "May I interrupt you, gentle lady?" 

174 



said the prophet. "That is a beautiful life and a lovely story, and 
an honor to our great University, but did not courage fail you 
when you had to face these millions with strange tongues and 
faces, alone?" "O, I forgot, or I didn't think it necessary to tell 
that in my vision I saw a man engaged in the same great work, 
and he was lonely, and I became lonely, and I thought we might 
do better work if we ceased to be lonely — and we became partners, 
and we are so glad to be here once more and meet our loved ones," 

White Rose, we will now have your report: Most Noble 
Prophet, the years had brought to me the reward of my labors, 
and I was about to fly homeward to a loving mother and tell her 
of my triumph when I received your commands to take in the 
Universe and return after a decade and tell what fate had given 
me out of fortune's stores. With my eyes as blue as the skies 
above, and my locks like the setting sun, I have made the round 
of the rolling years, gathering flowers and distributing smiles, 
happy in the thought that I was free from all the ills of life. While 
wandering in the wild woods I sat down on an outstretched limb 
of a giant oak and began to sing, 

"Come over the mountain to me, love, over to me, over to me, 

My heart is still pining for thee love, pining for thee. 

When suddenly I heard a mighty rush from above and there 
fell out of that tree at my feet — a man, who had been knocked 
off the limb by the music of my voice. He fell dead — in love — 
and I sympathised with his misfortune — and I have brought him 
out of the tree. I wear this White Rose gathered from the garden 
of our happy home on the banks of the beautiful river." 

The Carnation now steps forward to report: "My most loving 
prophet and monitor, the years, since we last met in this classic 
hall, have passed away behind the hill tops and have, sometimes, 
been rough and rocky, and again they have been smooth and 
pleasant to the weary traveler. Five of these years, happy to 
make others happy, I passed among the lowly, the needy and 
afflicted, trying to administer to the earthly wants and point out 
the way to 'Climbing up the golden stair.' Life was a joy with 
my father, mother, brother and sisters, and I wished with all my 
heart, that the decade you have assigned me would pass without 

175 



any unhappy change in our pleasant home; but alas, alas, who 
can see through the smoked glass of coming events? One day I 
was wandering through the forests gathering persimmons from 
chinckerpin trees (O pardon my emotions), when the heavens 
became black as my curly brown locks, and the fierce lightnings 
glared with fiery glances like my pretty blue eyes, and I was so 
scared that I trembled and tottered and my tall graceful form 
was leaning against a sweet sympathetic lily, when out from the 
black storm rushed a manly form and his strong arms caught me, 
and leaping the angry waters rushing by, he bore me to the arms 
of my mother. O how terrible! but I endured it, and have been 
enduring it ever since. Come to our happy home, where the red 
carnation smiles and storms never cast their black shadows." 

Now who comes here with graceful step and dignified mien, 
her ebony eyes rivaling her ebony locks, with the orange blossom 
smiling and winking as if to say, "I know something you don't 
know." Report, fair lady: "Sir, no sooner had you dismissed us 
some ten years ago to seek our fortunes and return with the 
'grapes of EshcoF like the spies of old, than I set out from my 
home among the sighing pines of the east where the peach blos- 
soms make beautiful the landscape, and the luscious fruit is a joy 
forever. How happy was our home when my voice made sweet 
music jalong the corridors and halls after my return. But my 
ambition was not satisfied. Ten years I had to climb the ladder 
of fame and report to my Alma Mater. So, with the blessings of 
my father and mother and with trunks full of silks and satin and 
paraphernalia, which I hope you will excuse me from mentioning, 
with a caress of the cat and a farewell to the dog, I sped my way 
to the great universities of the North. Honors and triumphs 
followed me, rivals fled before me; and I proudly said, 'What is 
man that I should be mindful of him.' Years passed and I was 
on my way to my beautiful Texas home, when I stopped over to 
enjoy for a few days the southern breezes among the southern 
orange groves of Florida. One day when the breezes sang low 
and the soft sun ray painted a red spot on my cheek, and my heart 
was tender I gathered some orange blossoms and pinned them on 

176 



my heart when — out from behind the bright cloud of flowers a 
gentle, manly voice, 'Low and tuneful sweet/ came — 

Let us go where the wild flowers bloom 

Amidst the soft dews of the night, 
Where the orange dispels its perfume, 

And the stars speak of love and of light. 

"And I went. O, I blush to say it, but I couldn't help it — but 
the orange blossom is responsible for it." 

Long years ago, before the gray dawn of manhood had chased 
away the golden sunrise of youth, I loved a rare and radiant 
maiden, and when she left me to go to her beautiful southern 
home, I sang- with a despairing heart, — 

"Shall we never more behold thee, 

Never hear thy gentle voice again, 
When the springtime comes gentle Annie, 

When the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain." 

But here comes another gentle Annie, with a gentle voice and 
a gentle smile, and a Daisy to introduce her to her sister flowers. 
Report, Miss Daisy: "My dear old teacher and sweet sisters of 
19 — , I regret to say that I have accomplished so little during the 
last ten years; but the world has been so bright and I have been 
so happy that I could not seize the rough end of fortune and hug 
to my heart the thorn and thistles of ambition and endeavor. 
The first year after our separation I rested among the roses and 
daisies and swung in the hammock in the honeysuckle glen and 
laughed at the humming bird jumping from flower to flower. 
Then, as my father is a traveler, I joined him in his wanderings 
over the States, the lakes and the rivers, and nature was so beau- 
tiful and life was so sweet that I could not get down to the rough 
realities of life. One bright, moonlight night as we were sailing 
up the Mississippi near New Orleans, and romance and love were 
dancing on the deck, and the breezes from the Gulf were kissing 
the zephyrs from the prairies, I heard a clear ringing youthful 
voice swinging forth a song — 

177 



'Where, O where is my little wee dog, 

Where, where can he be? 
With his ears cut short and his tail cut long, 
O where, O where can he be?' 

"And I beheld the finest, the manliest youth my eyes ever fell 
upon, and he, when he saw my tender eyes and blushing face, 
stretched out his arms and sang — 

'My boat's by the tower, my bark's on the bay, 
And we must be gone by the break of day; 

Then haste, lady, haste, hurrah for the deep, 
This night or never my bride thou shall be.' 

"And Oh, how I longed to get into that boat and sail away in 
that barque. Then his eyes said come, and his outstretched arms 
said come, and his voice said, 

'A life on the ocean wave, a home on the rolling deep, 

Where the scattered waters wave, and the winds their 
revels keep, 
We shoot through the sparkling foam, like an ocean bird 
set free, 
Like an ocean bird our home, we'll find far out at sea.' 

"And Oh, girls, what could I do? For four years my home has 
been on the ocean wave and our barque arrived on the river this 
morning." 

And now comes the flower of the Lone Star State — not the 
Yellow Rose of Texas that beats the Belle of Tennessee, but one 
brighter, more modest and more beautiful, the Blue Bonnet, the 
adopted flower of Texas: "Noble sir, when in my happy girl- 
hood, attending our noble University in 19 — , I received a diploma 
so graciously granted to me by the faculty and trustees, my heart 
was indeed happy, for I had succeeded in climbing to the top of 
every young girl's ambition, and was about to make my debut 
on the stage of womanhood. How many years and how lovingly 
I had gazed up to that lofty mountain peak, like the warrior who 
had followed the golden fleece, or the miser who had pursued 
the bag of gold at the end of the rainbow, or the pilgrim who 

178 



marched with the desire to see his sacred city of Jerusalem, but 
when I received your command to go out into the wide, wide 
world and turn the wheel of fortune and pin back the curtains 
of the next ten years, and watch myself pass along the avenues 
of life as destiny foreordained, and then return to you and make 
an honest report and confession — I was scared! for I was no Joan 
of Arc, no daring Elizabeth, no imperial Isabella, no proud Zen- 
obia, but a little tired happy girl that loved everybody and wished 
to make everybody happy. I dreaded to look upon the picture, 
for life is made up of clouds and sunshine, light and darkness, 
peace and storms. Shall I wander through life in silks or in pov- 
erty? Shall I wear a crown of gold or of thorns? Shall I meet 
with smiles or frowns? Shall I be a success or a failure? Shall I 
be an old maid, or a what not? Like Caesar at the Rubicon, I 
hesitated upon its banks, for the unknown is so fearful and a ghost 
of the Ku Klux might jump at me from behind every tree. I have 
led a very busy life. Every year has had 365 days for me, and every 
day was full of hours and every hour was full of toil. I have 
worked in the field of literature. I have traveled over the ages 
with the historian. I have delved in the mines of science. I have 
soared with the astronomer through the Milky Way. I have filled 
the world with my poetry, and I have tried to be an honor to my 
Alma Mater, my city and my State. I am here to-day after con- 
quering sickness, after overcoming opposition, after wading through 
deep waters, after driving away sorrow, after scattering roses by 
the way, after receiving the plaudits of the good and the blessings 
of the poor — and that beautiful mansion on the hill is mine — and 
I am not an old maid either." 

Who comes now to report with her blue eyes and ebony locks 
adorned with her flower, Forget-Me-Not, emblematic of her gen- 
tle heart? Watchman, tell us of the night: "Sir, more than 
3000 nights have scattered their shadows over the earth since last 
we met, many of these nights have been dark and gloomy, for 
this world is a 'whirley-gig,' and darkness and light, joy and 
sorrow, follow in the footsteps of each other; but the silver moon 
with its bright shield has passed across the heavens, chasing away 
the dark clouds, and has furnished a soft light to guide the steps 

179 



of lovers along the promenade of earth. Some years I passed in 
my home in the village on the hill, and many a time I have heard 
the hunters' horn as the gray dawn was breaking and my beauti- 
ful steed was galloping in the chase. My flowers and my birds 
and my music were my lovers and my life was a joy forever. One 
still night I sat alone among my flowers, the Forget-Me-Not 
gently tapping my cheek as the soft breezes played around us. 
The moon was laughing in the skies and the gray clouds were 
dancing and dodging her silvery darts, and I fell asleep and dreamed. 
A beautiful angel with golden wings appeared before me with Oh, 
so sweet a smile and said, 'Forget-Me-Not, are you not tired of 
so much earthly pleasure? Do you never weary of playing, of 
singing, and dancing, and laughing, and listening to soft nonsense 
and flattery? Was it for this, my dear sister, that you bore off 
the honors of your college and heard so modestly the applause of 
your classmates? Listen to me, my child; that mind and heart 
and form and strength and will should show in the coming years 
the results of your early training. When you go over the western 
horizon and disappear behind the golden sunset, you should make 
a pathway for thousands of your younger sisters to follow in your 
footsteps. On yonder hill, from which you can view the glories 
of the dawn and the fading day and count the stars at night as 
they sing the praises of your Creator, erect a building and sur- 
round it with the influences of the beautiful and gather the daugh- 
ters of men and give them the lessons that you received in your 
youth, that perfumes of innocence and purity may make a Paradise 
on earth and prepare them for the Paradise in the spirit world. 
Farewell and Forget-Me-Not/ And now I wish you and all of 
your friends to visit me on that hill and see the hundred happy 
faces there and allow me to introduce to you my partner in this 
great work in our happy home." 

I see the face of sweet Violet. She is always pleasant and 
happy and wherever she goes she leaves a trail of silver lining torn 
from her golden disposition. Welcome, most beautiful flower. 
Tell us whence you come and whither you have gone, and what was 
revealed to you by lifting the veil of the future. "I salute you, 
most honored prophet, and rejoice to meet you again with my dear 

180 



comrades after ten years absence. When we shook hands on that 
eventful day in 19; — , I hastened home to receive the loving wel- 
come from my father and mother, and such a welcome makes me 
laugh and cry to this day. The trees seemed to wave a welcome; 
the dog howled for joy; the cat ran up a tree and turned a somer- 
sault and fell on the back of the dog; the chickens ran forward 
in delight, and the old rooster crowed at the top of his voice, 
"Cook-a-do-de-do!" With sunshine and music and friends, 
time fled away and I concluded to travel and improve my mind 
and enjoy the beautiful scenes of nature and the wonderful work 
of man. So, with my parents, I traveled around the world in 
different directions. We crossed the Bridge of Sighs at Venice, 
followed the, foot prints of Hannibal across the Alps, gazed out 
across the stormy waters from the retreat of Napoleon at St. 
Helena, sailed up the Nile and the Ganges, climbed the Pyramids 
and talked with the Sphinx. While viewing the ruins of beautiful 
Palmyra, an incident happened that had some influence on my 
after career. We beheld a caravan coming from the east, from 
towards the Persian Gulf, a caravan of camels, horses and ele- 
phants, and when it drew nearer, my eyes fell upon a young man. 
Now that was not extraordinary, for my eyes had fallen on young 
men before. But this young man's eyes fell upon me also. He was 
dressed like a Nabob in the gaudiest costume of the East. He 
was riding the largest elephant in the caravan and was smoking 
his long pipe in supreme contentment. This Nabob was one of 
our American soldiers returning to his home in the West, and chose 
this way and manner, for he had imbibed some of the romance 
of the East and Arabian Nights. Well, you know how it all came 
about when he looked at me and I looked at him. He hauled up 
a missionary over there who had married our Lily and I became 
Mrs. Nabob. My father and mother returned home on a large 
ship, but we crossed the Sahara Desert on an elephant and arrived 
here yesterday, and though I have a Nabob I have no elephant 
on my hands." 

Nine muses have sung their song, have painted their lives upon 
the canvas of the fleeting years, and how varied and beautiful 
their experiences. Fate made no two of them alike, and the com- 

181 



bination of fortune and mutations of time made their paths to 
diverge like the mariners compass or the signs of the Zodiac. 
No two lives have been alike, no two fortunes ran in parallel lines 
upon the highways of the decade. They have never crossed the 
tide of time except upon one strange and wonderful point, and that 
was joyfully proclaimed when Blue Bonnet said, "And I am not 
an old maid either/ ' What beautiful, harmonious unanimity on 
that point. 

Here comes the last of our flower garden — the modest gentle 
Touch-Me-Not. Tell what you have seen of the years; tell us 
of the storms you have survived; tell us how you have been treated 
by old Winter and young Spring; tells us what Santa Claus al- 
ways puts in your — pocket. "You know, sir, that my heart has 
always been an open book to my friends and to those whom I 
loved. You know that I would walk a mile out of my way rather 
than disturb the courtship of a grasshopper and a butterfly. You 
know that my childhood and girlhood have been spent in the lap 
of nature, while I made love to the flowers, and caressed the dew- 
drops, and danced with the harp and kissed the snow flakes and 
challenged the mocking-bird to a musical concert. You know the 
golden morn and I are twin sisters, and we have traveled over the 
hills together through many a day, singing with the breezes and 
talking with the lowing herd. Hence, when my college work was 
done, I returned gladly to my home among the shady trees and 
waving wheat and golden corn, and sporting calves and quacking 
ducks and frying-size chickens. My father loved to hear the music 
of the murmuring rivulets in the country, rather than the rum- 
bling of the wheel barrow and ice wagon in the city. My mother 
loved the peace of the beautiful skies and the silence of the stars, 
and the graceful movement of the silver moon in the quiet evening, 
rather than the turmoil of the city, the hoorah of society and the 
whirl of the dance. So I chose and wear its significant meaning 
as my motto, the modest Touch-Me-Not. Of course, I could not 
always be free from vexations and vanities of human nature. Now 
and then a bright young lawyer passing our way would attempt 
to plead his cause and win his case with me. Ever and anon a 
politician seeking office and my father's support, would forget 

182 



himself and plead for my votes more earnestly than for the favor 
of my father, but I have invariably stepped back from their out- 
stretched arms and said, 'Touch-Me-Not.' But as the ten years 
of my pilgrimage were nearing their close I felt a kind of vacuum 
in my heart and in my life ; I seemed to be in the center of a circle 
all alone and listening to happy voices crying around the cir- 
cumference, and since I have listened to the happy experiences 
of my sisters, I will not promise to be present at our next reunion 
with Touch-Me-Not as my flower and Motto." 



And so the curtain falls on the first decade of your lives. Time 
has not marred your youth. Your cheeks are as rosey, your eyes 
as bright, your voices as clear, your locks as golden, as they were 
ten years ago when you marched out of this hall into the unknown 
years, and I rejoice over your success and happiness. At your 
next meeting in the bivouac of the future while " tenting on the 
old camp ground/' your old Prophet will not be with you, the 
spirit world will claim its own, but his words and advice and love 
will always go with you; and whenever you are in doubt or 
in danger or distressed, fling out your arms to the God of the 
Universe, lift up your voices to the Saviour of the World and, if 
you can't draw Heaven down to you, you can fly on the wings of 
love up to Heaven. And now, farewell. 




183 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

The Result. 
Before closing these records I wish to place before you two 
remarkable literary gems for your study and admiration. The 
following poem was read at a family gathering around the Christ- 
mas tree, December 25th, 1911. Its author is my son, C. C. 
Cole, better known as "Lum," and the subject, "Bill," is my 
grandson, William Robert Deatherage, a student at the University 
of Texas. I insert it here to immortalize both poet and subject. 

"A Varsity Idyl (Idle.)" 
"There was a young boy named Bill 

And everyone thought him a pill, 
But his pa and ma said, 'what ! 
Bill a pill, you are a fool!' 
So they sent him to Austin to school. 

A month rolled by, no word from Bill, 

His pa was filled with alarm. 
1 He is studying his fool self to death, 

I must stop him from further harm.' 
So he writes to Bill and says to him, 

'What about your Greek?' 

'Greek nothing, Varsity six — Hullaboloo,' says Bill, 
'Greek, Greek, I don't understand,' 

'How about your Latin?' 

'Latin seven, Varsity eleven, Rattle-the-thrap,' 
says Bill. 

'The eyes of Texas are upon you, Bill, 

Your learning is shouted from every hill, 
So off to Austin I must go 

To see my boy who is not so slow. 

With pants rolled up and cap on ear 

With shouts and yells both far and near 

In the shirt tail parade William was found 
Rushing about all over the town. 

184 



'A. & M. nothing, Varsity five, Hippity- Hippity Hue/ 

1 Come here to me you blame little cuss, 
Get you home or I'll crack your dome, 
You make me sick, you little pill/ 
And this was the end of the schooling of Bill. 

I am happy to say Bill is still leading his class in the Uni- 
versity, and knows a Greek noun or a Latin verb when they come 
dancing in the road before him. 

The following short brilliant romance was written by a little 
girl, Katrina Reid, my "granddaughter, eight years of age. She 
is a literary genius, and the romance shows "the way of a very 
young maid." 

Mary and Arthur. A Romance. 
Once upon a time there was a boy and a girl, the girl's name 
was Mary and the boy's name was Arthur. One day they went 
across a bridge, the bridge had a hole in it. Mary and Arthur 
were so busy looking at the trees and things that they fell through 
the hole and went to the bottom of the Trinity River. It was so 
deep that they couldn't get out so they stayed there all night. 
The next morning a boat came down the river. It had a whole 
lot of boxes on it, some of the boxes fell into the river, Mary and 
Arthur grabbed the boxes and looked in them. There was candy 
and cakes and other good things to eat in them. They ate the 
things and then they got into the boxes and got in the boat. The 
boat went off to a little town. I don't know what the name of it 
is. It was night time when they got there, and Mary and Arthur 
laid down on some grass and went to sleep. The next morning 
when they woke up they started out to see what they could find. 
After they had gone just a little piece they saw a little house. 
They went up to the door and knocked a little man at the door 
they went in and he asked them if they wanted to go up with him 
in his airoplain and they said yes. and he took them up in the air. 
they went flying through the air soon they landed in the State of 
Kentucky the little man gave them each a dollar and told them 
good by. They went to the place where the Mammoth cave was. 

185 



They each gave the guide their dollar and the Guide took them 
into the cave, They each had a lantern and could see very well 
after they had gone Just a little ways they came to the Dead River 
by the Dead River was a altar made out of carl. They got married 
there and the guide took them on out of the cave. They went 
all up in the mountains on their Bridal Ture and lived happy ever 
after. Katrina, The Author. 



The Result. 

The last day of the Seventh Decade had gone back among the 
departed ages and I have stepped over the line marked by "Three 
Score Years and Ten." What I have written is a Memory. As 
I look back along the winding highways and the avenues of the 
long journey, scenes and faces and forms crowd around me. Have 
I done my full duty? I have tried. Would I do the same things 
if I had an opportunity? Not with the lights of to-day. Have I 
ever been unjust or injured any one, man or woman, in all the 
vicissitudes of my life? Not knowingly, not wilfully. The in- 
fluences surrounding me in childhood with a pure mother, in youth 
by a happy religious family, in college by a great and good presi- 
dent and faculty, with brothers and sisters all Christians, in the 
army under generals and officers who prayed with their soldiers, 
after the war a teacher in colleges and schools where an example 
of manliness and gentility was required, and finally with a wife 
of high and noble qualities, and children who walked in the foot- 
steps of their parents, it was difficult to go wrong. I do not deserve 
as much credit as many others who were not so correct in their 
lives. 

It is easy to see mistakes when bad results appear. Napoleon 
said, "No General could foresee everything that might happen, 
and he was the best general that could reduce the accidents and 
blunders to the smallest number." There were many blunders 
in the conduct of the Civil War; without counting those on the 
side of the Union armies, there were enough on the Confederate 
side to cause our defeat. Many of these appeared to be fatalities, 
and others blunders of judgment. There was Sidney Johnston's 
death in the hour of victory, fatality; Jackson's death in the hour 

186 



of victory, fatality; Lee's battle at Malvern Hill, bad judgment; 
Lee's third day's battle at Gettysburg, balky co-operation; John- 
ston's suspension before Atlanta, bad judgment of the President ; 
Longstreet's wound at the Wilderness, a misfortune; Hood's battle 
of Franklin, bad judgment; Bragg's sending away Longstreet at 
Missionary Ridge, bad judgment. Oh, we can see these blunders 
after they happen and it is too late to remedy, but Napoleon ri- 
diculed the commander that would take no risks. I think I can 
see these blunders now, but what is my judgment as against Lee 
and Hood and Davis, though I have the lights of half a century 
after the events? In my own little life as a unit of humanity I 
have done the best I could, nearly all the time, according to my 
judgment. 

As I sit in my library this June day, 1913, writing the last 
words of this chronicle, I close my eyes and see the happy chil- 
dren and dear faces of the First Decade, and the manly forms of 
my college companions on the foot ball grounds, and the sweet 
smiles and graceful forms of the gentle maidens in the Second 
Decade, and the marching columns of warriors going into battle, 
and the movements in the school rooms, lecture halls, the farm, 
the church, the legislature, the scenes of travel, mountain, valley 
and rivers; I open my eyes and listen — I hear sweet voices, the 
prattle of children, the appeal of the pulpit, the music of song. 
"Old Hundred" swings out from the choir, "From Greenland's 
Icy Mountains" sends its missionaries to "India's Coral Strand," 
"Before Johovah's Awful Throne " bursts from the grand organ, 
and "Watchman, tell us of the Night" makes us listen to his mes- 
sage. O those grand old songs, how they ring down the years! 
The songs of the Camp Meeting, the songs of the grand cathedrals, 
the songs of the college chapel, the songs around the camp fires. 
Then I hear the joyous songs of my youth with the girl and her 
guitar; "The Old Oaken Bucket," "Kathleen Mavourneen," "I 
have something sweet to tell you," "Gentle Annie," "My Old 
Kentucky Home," "Woodman spare that Tree," "Just Twenty 
Years Ago,' "The Mocking Bird," "The Last Rose of Summer;" 
and then I hear the bands from over the hills playing martial 
songs, "When this cruel war is over," "The Bonnie Blue Flag," 

187 



"Maryland, My Maryland," "Dixie," "The Old North State," 
"Tenting on the Old Camp Ground," and "Home Sweet Home." 
And when I recall the joys and sorrows and disappointments and 
failures, the question faces me — "Is life worth living? " and I 
answer "Yes, it is worth living to prepare for another greater and 
better," where there will be "a far more exceeding and eternal 
weight of glory." The brave man will endure to the end. 

Now, if you ask me what is the result of my long life, have I 
added anything to humanity and its happiness, I answer, "I 
have taught the boys and girls, the young men and women of 
Texas, nearly forty years, both by precept and example, to be 
honest men and women. I have taught the great truths of the 
Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule, I have taught them 
obedience to law and love of country; I believe I have done some 
good in the world. I answer again, "Come to my home at 2300 
Ross Avenue on the next 25th of December and see a family of 
twenty-six, gathered around a Christmas Tree, loaded with beauti- 
ful presents; enter the long dining room and see twenty-six men, 
women and children, talking and laughing over a banquet fit for 
the clouds of Olympus. They have come from Kansas, from 
Oklahoma, and from Texas, like the wild birds flying from the 
north winds to meet the sun in the south. They come back every 
Christmas to the nest of the old birds — when the ' Swallows Home- 
ward Fly.' Call the roll and listen to the answers: There is a 
happy old father and a glorious old mother (not so old either), 
there are four daughters and four sons, there are four sons-in-law 
and two daughters-in-law; there are five grand-daughters and five 
grandsons, and — that young man came alone from North Carolina 
forty-seven years ago, and you ask for results and is 'Life Worth 
Living!'" I have tried it for more than seventy years, and I 
wouldn't take it back if I could, though I might mend it. And 
now, Good-bye. 

THE END. 



188 



THE PATRIOT. 

A Romance. 
By J. R. Cole. 

CHAPTER I. 

One bright spring morning in 1836, two horsemen were rid ng 
along the road south of the Rio Grande, the one about thirty- 
five years of age and the other fifteen. They were well mounted 
and seemed to be enjoying the freshness of the morning. The 
older one w T as dressed in a Mexican uniform which proclaimed 
him a Colonel in the Mexican army. He was a fine looking man 
with expressive face. The other was dressed so as to indicate 
that his home had been on a ranch with the cowboys as his com- 
panions, and his countenance was bright, his blue eyes fine, and his 
graceful carriage in the saddle showed that he was used to a life 
on the plains. 

Let us listen to their conversation as they rode on their way. 
The Mexican officer, Colonel Blanco, addressed his youthful com- 
panion, Richard King, and said, "My young friend, how did it 
happen that you were captured and put in my charge to be car- 
ried to the City of Mexico after the fall of the Alamo?" "My 
father owned a ranch about twenty miles from San Antonio," 
said Richard, "and when he heard of the invasion of Texas by 
Santa Anna and the call of Colonel Travis for reinforcements to 
defend the Alamo, he bade my mother good-bye, took his rifle 
and mounted his horse, and, taking me with him, reported for 
duty with the Texans under Colonels Travis and Crockett. He 
fell fighting by the side of his officers, and, a few days afterwards, 
I heard that our home had been destroyed. I fought by the side 
of my father until he was killed by the bayonets of the enemy 
and I w r as knocked senseless. I recovered in a few minutes and 
saw our men fight and fall until only a few were alive. Col. 
Crockett was one of these, after killing many of the enemy. When 
he was marched up to Santa Anna by an officer he sternly faced 
the Mexican commander, and when he was ordered to be ex- 
ecuted he sprang like a tiger at Santa Anna, but was slain by 

189 



bayonets and swords before he could reach the savage Mexican. 
I was found in the fort by an officer and carried to General Santa 
Anna, who at first looked sternly at me, but finally said, 'Take 
care of him, he is a boy and I may find some use for him.' I 
was afterwards placed in your charge to be carried to the city of 
Mexico when you were ordered to carry dispatches to the gov- 
ernment." 

"And you have heard nothing of your mother since the de- 
struction of your home?" " Nothing except that the officer that 
commanded the raiding party was in the regular army and of 
high rank, and I hope that my mother was not mistreated per- 
sonally." 

"I am sure that the officer would not mistreat a lady. The 
property and cattle belonged to the enemy of the government 
and, of course, were legitimate captures." "The blow was very 
severe to my mother," said Richard. "My father killed, my sup- 
posed death, and the destruction of her home and all of her pos- 
sessions, and a captive in the hands of the enemy with an unknown 
and dreaded future." 

"Well," said the Colonel, "I think you have nothing to fear 
for yourself; you seem to be in favor with the General for he told 
me to take good care of you and show you every kindness and 
deliver you to his family in the city. As you have no home now, 
and your mother's fate is unknown, you will make your home 
among the best people in Mexico." "I suppose my country will 
be conquered as Mexico is so powerful, and the General is such a 
great warrior, but I am a Texan and love the people of my father 
and the cause for which he died." 

Thus they talked as they rode along, until they came to a 
pretty cottage by the wayside and saw a garden and yard filled 
with flowers and a young girl in their midst. Instantly Richard 
became thirsty and, lifting his cap, saluted the young lady, and 
asked if he might have a cool drink of water from the well. The 
young lassie, who was about twelve years of age and exquisitely 
beautiful, seeing such a fine young gentleman, so graceful and 
smiling, gave a smile in return and said, "Certainly sir, dismount 
and help yourself." It took Richard some time to quench his 

190 



thirst while his eyes devoured the beautiful face, and hers meas- 
ured his manly form. Thanking the young lady they mounted and 
rode on. "Did you ever see such a beautiful young girl in all your 
life?" exclaimed Richard, "Such a face, such eyes, such a smile, 
such a form!" "Yes," said Colonel Blanco, "she is certainly pretty." 
"She is perfection," said Richard enthusiastically, "and if I live 
ten years longer she will be my mife." "Good," laughed the 
Colonel, "You both are pretty young for you to be deciding your 
future already, especially considering your condition." 

"Well, I have decided and it is settled and you will see me lead- 
ing her to^the altar and hear her say, 'I will.' " The officer was 
greatly amused and said, "I will bet my silver mine near the City 
of Mexico against a silver dollar that you will not marry her and 
will never see her again." "I will take the bet, and I will have a 
silver mine and a home to settle on after our honeymoon. Now 
excuse me, a thought has struck me, wait for me for a few min- 
utes." Turning his horse he galloped back to where the girl was 
still standing, he said, "Pardon me, please, but will you tell me 
which fork of the road up here will lead us to the next city ahead 
of us?" She looked into his eyes and burst into a happy musical 
laugh and said,"Either one will carry you there." He laughed, 
for he saw that she understood him. There wasn't any fork of 
the road. He said, "Please don't think me rude, but my name is 
Richard King of Texas, and will you tell me who lives here?" 
"They are cousins of mine," she said. "Will you tell me the name 
of the beautiful girl who gave me a cup of water, that I may re- 
member this day?" "No, I believe not. I will let you find out 
some other way." "Well I have made a bet with my companion, 
a wonderful bet, that I must win, and I must find out your name. 
Should you ever receive a message signed 'King Richard'you will 
know the monarch addressing you." "Very well, sir," said she, 
"as you please to call yourself a king, you may call me a queen — 
Queen Isabella." "I will be your loyal subject, O Queen, and you 
shall hear of me and from me before the moon and stars are ten 
years older." "I hope, Sir King, that you will win your bet what- 
ever it may be, and I give you this red rose for you to wear in your 
wonderful career, and I will watch the moon ten years for your 

191 



coming." And he galloped away with a joyous heart and she 
laughed a happy laugh at his knightly, boyish language. 

He rode by the side of his companion, who said, "Well, what 
have you been about ?" "I have made a match, I have won your 
bet, you can turn over your silver mine to me now as well as wait 
ten years." "Well, I believe I will wait and see what ten years 
will bring." So talking and riding, after many days they arrived 
in the city and the young man was introduced to the General's 
family, both personal and official. I will leave him for a while 
to make his way, which I am sure he will, for he is a bold, fear- 
less boy, a typical Texan, true to his state and independent. 



CHAPTER II. 

After the battle of San Jacinto and the capture of Santa Anna, 
General Houston sent an officer with a company of soldiers to 
San Antonio to look after the interests of that part of the State, 
and especially to see after the families of the fallen heroes of the 
Alamo. He was a friend of Mr. King, and the officer visited his 
ruined home, but his wife had disappeared and he could bring no 
intelligence of her fate. 

In the meantime, with the knowledge of after years, we will 
follow the events succeeding the destruction of the King property 
and the capture of Mrs. King. General Castro informed her that 
the country was unsafe for ladies and that he would remove her 
to a distance from the wild bands of soldiers, burning and pil- 
fering and murdering. She was placed in her carriage, and, es- 
corted by the officer, they passed over the Rio Grande and finally 
reached Monterey, where she became a member of General Castro's 
family. She requested the officer to introduce her as Mrs. Single- 
ton, a refugee from Texas, as she was afraid of the enemies of her 
husband if it was discovered that she was the widow of one of the 
fierce heroes of the Alamo. She was a fine looking lady with grace- 
ful manners, about thirty-three years of age, and won the hearts 
of all who became acquainted with her. Here we will leave her 
to pass a few years in the refined family of General Castro, as a 

192 



guerrilla warfare continued in Texas, and she believed all her kin- 
dred were killed or dispersed. 

General Castro's family consisted of the General, his wife, a 
son and one daughter. The son was about twenty years of age 
and was a lieutenant in the Mexican army. The daughter was a 
beautiful young girl, and she and Mrs. Singleton soon became good 
friends. 

Richard King was entered as a cadet in the military academy 
in the City of Mexico, and remained there four years, until he 
graduated. He became not only a scholar in military science, 
but in all athletic exercises he excelled, and was the most expert 
swordsman in the academy. In strength, skill, quickness of move- 
ment, he rarely, if ever, met his match. He had grown to be six 
feet high, weighing one hundred and sixty pounds, with muscles 
of steel, and, withall, was graceful, polished and popular. There 
was one man in his class in the academy who refused to yield the 
supremacy for skill and strength to any one; and, though he was 
arrogant and unpopular, he had his followers and friends. He 
was a man of powerful build and great strength, weighing about 
two hundred pounds, and had never been defeated in any contest. 
He was jealous of Richard, because of his popularity and the praise 
bestowed on him for his skill in athetics and sw r ordsmanship. 
Richard understood the hatred this cadet entertained for him, 
but treated his conduct with indifference. Finally, at a banquet 
given by the officials of the academy, this man, whose name was 
Balboa, seized the occasion to insult Richard by saying in so loud 
a voice that the whole company could hear him/' Who will dare 
to lift his voice in praise of any man or woman in the State of 
Texas? They are all traitors and should be hung over the walls 
of the Alamo." Instantly there was a deathly silence, for all knew 
what it meant, since Richard had never concealed his sentiments 
of loyalty to Texas and America. He rose from his seat and, look- 
ing sternly in the face of the man who insulted him, said, "You are 
a coward and a liar. Texas was the home of my father and my 
mother, and is my home and my country." ."Well, what are you 
going to do about it?" sneered the giant. "This, and this," said 
Richard, as he leaped forward and struck him on the right jaw 

193 



and then on the left, sending him reeling against the wall. Balboa, 
shaking his fist furiously, yelled out, "You shall hear from me," 
and, followed by some of his friends, he left the hall. 

In the meantime the cadets and officials and the superintend- 
ent of the academy and other prominent officials, including Bal- 
boa's father and Santa Anna's adjutant general, demanded order, 
and all took their seats. After consulting together, the superin- 
tendent ordered Richard under arrest, and required him to appear 
before a court martial on the next day at noon. There was a great 
murmur of dissatisfaction among the cadets, and many of them 
went to Richard and offered their services; and a young officer, 
the son of General Castro, admiring the independence and courage 
of the Texan, offered to be his second if he needed him. Before 
midnight, one of the friends of Balboa brought a challenge to 
Richard to meet him with swords next morning at sunrise, stating 
the place. Richard promptly accepted and requested Captain 
Castro to act as second. At the appointed time and place both 
principals, with their seconds, appeared and many of the friends 
of both parties accompanied them. Balboa showed the bruises 
received the night before on his face, and the scowl on his coun- 
tenance clearly proclaimed his intention to slay his enemy. He 
had no doubt about the result as he had never met his equal and 
was a noted duelist. Richard stripped for the combat and his 
form showed perfect symmetry and strength, and his countenance 
was stern and confident. 

The preliminaries over, the principals were ordered forward. 
They approached and their swords crossed, Richard cool, and 
Balboa furious. Several passes were made and met, and the fight 
became fiercer as each felt the strength and skill of the other. 
Twice the sword of Richard was near the throat of his enemy 
and once tore open his ear. Balboa fought with skill and power, 
rushing on his opponent, bearing him, step by step, backward 
and coming down upon his head with giant strength, but the 
sword of Richard met every blow and sword clashed against 
sword, until Balboa made a supreme rush, and with all his strength 
struck downward; which would have been the death of his oppon- 
ent, if Richard had not quickly bent away, so that it only grazed 

194 



his shoulder, and with lightning rapidity sent his blade through 
the neck of Balboa, whose sword dropped from his hand, and he 
staggered and fell to the ground. The seconds rushed forward 
and the fight was over. The wounded man was carried home badly 
but not mortally wounded, and Richard reported to the court 
martial for trial. 



CHAPTER III. 

The court assembled. . Richard King came in, saluted and 
took his seat. The charges were read to him. The President 
said, "Richard King, you are a cadet of the National Military 
Academy of Mexico. You have been educated by the President 
of the nation, who has conferred upon you many honors and favors. 
You come from a rebellious people, enemies of our country. Not- 
withstanding all this, you have received all the benefits of this 
institution and been treated as well as if you were a true loyal 
Mexican. Last night you struck, savagely, one of the cadets, 
at a peaceful banquet in the presence of the officials of the in- 
stitute and of the government, and while under arrest for that 
breach of discipline and good conduct, this morning you fought a 
duel with the same cadet and wounded him, it may be unto death. 
What have you to say to these charges?" 

Richard stood up before this stern, powerful tribunal, and 
said, "I plead guilty to the facts of striking Cadet Balboa andfight- 
ing a duel with him this morning, and wounding him in the fight. 
It is true, also, that I have received many favors from the Presi- 
dent of this country and the government, for which I am grateful. 
Cadet Balboa took that public occasion, when all the cadets and 
the officials of the government were present, to insult me, in such 
an insolent and cowardly manner, that, if I had remained silent, 
I would have deserved the contempt of every brave man and every 
noble woman in this nation. I am a Texan, I am an American, 
and he insulted my country, my father and my mother, and every 
son and daughter of my country. My father was slain in battle 
at the Alamo, my home was destroyed, and my mother was taken 

195 



captive and is dead, or a fugitive, or a slave, it may be, for I have 
never heard of her since she was driven from her home. And they 
were insulted ! What could I have done!" And his voice thun- 
dered, and his arms swung through the air, and his face flushed, 
and his eyes flashed fire. "I am grateful for all the favors granted 
to me during the last four years; I have tried to be an honor to 
the institution that educated me. I have never been false to any 
friend, nor turned my back to an enemy. I did not think that it 
was expected of me to buy these favors by turning traitor to the 
land of my birth and kindred. I would have been a cowboy on 
the plain, I would have been a plow boy between the furrows, I 
would have dug in the mines, I would have tramped in the gar- 
ments of poverty, before I would have sold my manhood, my con- 
science and my country for all the favors Mexico can bestow." 
He sat down and there was silence. 

Then the President of the court said, "What is your decision, 
gentlemen?" Colonel Blanco arose and said, "I have known this 
young man since his father fell at the Alamo. I brought him by 
order of General Santa Anna from Texas to the City of Mexico. 
I never knew a nobler, braver boy and man. He is incapable of 
a wrong act. I approve of everything he has done and said." 
Captain Castro arose and said, "I met this young cadet last night 
for the first time. I approve his conduct in resenting the insult 
offered him and I offered to be his second, when he was challenged 
for chastising his insulter." Senator Balboa, the father of the 
wounded cadet, arose and said, "I move that the verdict of the 
court shall be to banish Cadet King from Mexico for five years." 
The vote was taken, and he was found guilty and sentenced to 
banishment for five years by a majority of the court. Colonel 
Blanco and Captain Castro quickly stepped forward and grasped 
Richard's hand while he stood proud and erect. "Never mind 
my boy, you will come back to your friends in five years; you will 
spend those years in preparing yourself for the great future. The 
ten years probation will then nearly expire and you will pay me 
that silver dollar you bet me." "No, sir, I am coming back all 
right, but it will be to invite you to a wedding and to claim my 

196. 



silver mine/' "All right, find her and capture her, and the mine 
shall be yours." 

Captain Castro shook Richard's hand and said, "I will always 
be proud to call you my friend. I don't know what you mean by 
the silver mine, but if I can help you to get it you can count on 
me. 

Richard, decided to spend his banishment in his own country, 
and to attend Harvard College until he received his de- 
grees of Bachelor of Arts and Civil Engineer. Captain Castro 
accompanied him on his way to the United States as far as Mon- 
terey, where his people lived. Richard continued his journey 
into Texas, and visited his old home, but found no one who knew 
him, and a stranger in possession of the ranch. He arrived at 
Harvard and entered the College to remain until he received 
his degrees. In the meantime Captain Castro joined his family, 
who were all at home and Mrs. Singleton with them. One day 
he was sitting on the lawn under the shade of a large live-oak 
with his sister, a beautiful girl of about seventeen years. They 
were inseparable while he was on furlough, but his time was 
about to expire, and while the smoke curled from his cigar and 
they were enjoying the evening hours, he turned and addressed 
his sister. "Isabel, I have never told you of a very interesting 
incident that happened in Mexico City a few weeks ago, and to the 
finest young man I ever knew. He was a Texan by birth and a 
cadet in the Military Academy in the city. He was insulted by 
a great braggart at a banquet, and knocked him down. As this 
was considered a great breach of military discipline by the au- 
thorities, he was put under arrest and was to be court-martialed 
next day. I knew he would be challenged to fight by the man who 
insulted him, for he was a noted duelist; so I offered him my ser- 
vices to act as his second, for I greatly admired his action and 
bearing under the insult and in the presence of the government 
officials. The duel was fought the next morning, and he conquered 
his enemy, wounding him badly but not mortally. He was tried 
that day and banished from the country for five years. Colonel 
Blanco and I voted in his favor and then something happened 
that I didn't understand, for Colonel Blanco had known him when 

197 



he was a boy just from Texas, and jokingly said to him, that his 
ten years time would expire about the time of his return to Mexico, 
and he would expect him to pay that silver dollar he would owe 
him. His reply was, 'I will be back in five years all right, but it 
will be to invite you to my wedding and to claim that silver mine.' 
And the Colonel replied, 'All right, find her and catch her and the 
mine shall be yours.' I didn't know what they meant, but I said, 
'If I can help you to win that bet, you can count on me.' " His 
sister said, "Brother, what was the name of that young man?" 
He replied that his name was Richard King. She sprang to her 
feet and clapped her hands and cried out, "0 brother, that is my 
King Richard, my lost girlhood dream, my young knight. We 
almost pledged ourselves to each other five years ago. He was 
with a Mexican officer on the way to the Mexican capital, and I 
gave him a drink of water and a red rose ; he was so gallant and I 
was young and romantic. He said his name was Richard King. 
I wouldn't tell him my name, but said that he might know me as 
Queen Isabella, since he wished me to know him as King Richard. 
What do you know of him? Where had he been? How does he 
look?" "Well, I can't answer all your questions at once, but I 
think he hardly has his equal in courage, and intelligence, and in 
appearance he certainly is a prince if not a king. He has been 
educated at the Military Academy by the President, who greatly 
admired him." "And he is banished for five years? But he will 
return. I wish I knew what they meant by that bet." They 
agreed that they would not let any one of the family into their 
little secret. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Two years had passed since the conversation between the 
brother and sister under the live-oak at their home at Monterey. 
The Captain had been promoted and was wearing the star of a: 
major. He was again on leave of absence, and he and his sister 
resolved to surprise "King Richard" and stir him out of his studies. 
So, several days after their little conspiracy, Richard King at 

198 



Harvard received the following letter, which greatly excited him 
and disturbed his Latin and German and Greek and Engineering. 

"City of Mexico, Dec. 25, 1842. 
"Mr. Richard King. 
My dear friend: 

It is a"bout time you were letting me hear of your pro- 
gress, your health and your happiness. Your friends here are 
looking forward to a happy reunion when you return three years 
from this date. While traveling through the country some time 
ago, I stopped in a distant city and met a beautiful girl who sur- 
prised me by saying that seven or eight years ago she met a splendid 
boy who called himself 'King Richard' and he promised that she 
should hear from him before ten years had passed away, but she 
had never seen or heard from him since, and she supposed that 
he had forgotten the little girl who gave him a drink of water 
and a red rose. She told him her name was Queen Isabella. That 
is a nice romance and you had better find out where this beautiful 
queen is and beg her to wait until the ten years are gone, for there 
will certainly be others seeking the favor of so beautiful a woman. 
If I should meet her again, what message shall I give her? 

Your friend, 

Castro.' 5 

Seven years had passed since he had received that red rose 
from that bright-eyed girl in the garden of flowers; seven years 
since he had said he would make her his wife before another ten 
years had gone by, and that rose was the pledge to wait his coming. 
And he had never heard from her in all these years; and now he 
was a man and she a woman. Who was she? Where was she ? How 
had she changed? Was she true to her pledge? Or did she merely 
think of him as a presumptuous boy? But he knew that she had a 
firm place in his heart; and though he had met the beautiful women 
of Mexico and America, his queen still ruled supreme, for he knew 
that the pretty girl of twelve years was now the glorious beauty 
of eighteen. He wrote to his friend to find out "for heaven's sake," 
where she was and where he could find her. "Tell her that before 

199 



the sun sets the last day of the long ten years I shall be knocking 
at her door to pay allegiance to my sovereign queen and to make 
known all the accumulated thoughts and wishes of my ten years 
waiting." 

In the summer of 1844, Richard availed himself of his vacation 
to travel west to Texas to see what he could hear of his old home. 
He knew that it had been confiscated by the Mexicans and that a 
German immigrant had bought it from the government. He 
found that the ranch was in good condition under the management 
of the present owner and was a very valuable piece of property. 
Richard discussed the whole matter with the German, told him 
the history of the place, that the houses had been burned and his 
mother driven out of her home by the Mexicans, and he had been 
carried away when a boy; but now Texas was a free Republic, 
having won her independence, and if he could not recover his 
home by agreement with him, he would lay his claim before the 
authorities of the Republic. The German, realizing that the law 
and justice were against him, said that if Richard would pay him 
what he gave for the property and the improvements he would 
yield up the place to him. The agreement was made, the German 
moved away, and Richard employed the former manager of the 
ranch under the German to continue in charge of the property. 
This manager was a singular and interesting character. He was 
a full blooded Comanche Indian. He was strong and intelligent, 
an,d had been a fierce warrior against the whites when he was a 
young man. In one of their raids he was captured and sen- 
tenced to be shot for his bloody career; but the American officer, 
admiring his manly appearance and his bravery, saved his life. 
After driving the Indians away from that part of the country, he 
placed him with the German, who, finding him grateful for his 
pardon and a reliable man, finally made him foreman of the ranch. 
Richard, learning this history of Tarlequah, for that was his name, 
asked him if he would remain in charge and look after the pro- 
perty. He said he would gladly do so. Tarlequah told Richard 
that he had heard the story about the Mexicans destroying the 
home of the Kings and the carrying away of the mistress of the 
place, but never heard where she was carried or what became of 

200 



her. And Richard still sorrowed for the captivity of his mother, 
or her death; he had made every effort to find her but without 
success. 

While Richard was traveling to the southwest, as we have de- 
scribed, another party was going to the northeast, and their paths 
crossed somewhere on the way. This party consisted of General 
and Mrs. Castro of Monterey, Mexico, with their daughter Carrie 
Isabella, "the girl of the red rose." The General was carrying 
his girl to one of the famous New England colleges for women to 
finish her education in an American institution. She was a gra- 
duate of one of the best colleges in Mexico, and wished to have 
one year's study of the English language and literature and see 
the social side of American life. 



CHAPTER V. 

During the years passed by our hero in the City of Mexico, 
the Mexican government refused to recognize the independence 
of Texas, and a guerrilla warfare continued along the border of 
the new Republic. Santa Anna, after his defeat and capture at 
San Jacinto, agreed to a treaty of peace by which Texas was grant- 
ed her independence, but the Mexican government repudiated the 
treaty and would not recognize anything done by the President 
while in captivity. In the spring of 1845 Texas applied to be 
admitted as a State into the American Union, and became part 
of the great Republic of the United States during that year. This 
was considered by the government of Mexico as equivalenc to a 
declaration of war and the antagonism along the Rio Grande 
and the angry feelings of the people on both sidles of the river 
became so threatening that the American government ordered 
General Taylor, with a small army of regulars, to march to the 
southern border of the State. Preparations for war were being 
made by both governments, and volunteer companies were being 
organized in Texas. 

Now let us turn to the east, where we know other sentiments 
than anger and war prevailed between Texas and Mexico, as re- 

201 



presented by one Texan and one Mexican. General Castro and 
wife had returned to their distant home, leaving their daughter 
in the far east to her studies and thoughts. Her life in our American 
college and with the elegant ladies with whom she associated and 
her studies in literature and music, with the improvement of her 
fine voice, made the weeks and months pass off rapidly and pleas- 
antly, and she often thought of that splendid boy who had her 
red rose, and a happy smile played upon her lips as she thought 
how near he was to her and how far he thought she was from him. 
The last year of Richard's stay in the College was coming 
to an end and, in the midst of his preparations for the commence- 
ment, he was anxious to hurry back to Mexico to seek for that 
radiant girl who had filled his heart for nine years. The picture 
of her standing among the flowers, and her sparkling eyes and 
smiling lips had never left him during all these years of struggle and 
banishment, and his imagination made that picture more beauti- 
ful as the young girl grew into womanhood. The time of his ban- 
ishment was about to expire, and he had only one year to find 
the "Maid of the Red Rose" among the millions who inhabited 
the vast domain of the great Republic. Richard had been se- 
lected by his class to deliver the annual oration as their repre- 
sentative, and he was making preparations for that event. He 
had received a letter from his friend, Major Castro, saying that 
he would be traveling in the United States in the summer and 
would try to arrange his plans so as to be at the University at its 
commencement. On the day when the diplomas would be pre- 
sented and the degrees conferred and the oration delivered, the 
great auditorium was filled with the beauty and intellect of the 
City and the State, and many from distant states and countries. 
Major Castro and his sister had arrived amd were sitting well 
back in the audience, for they did not wish to be recognized at 
that time. When Richard's name was called, he arose and walked 
forward, graceful, self-possessed, erect, with such an intellectual face 
and manly form, that he was received with great applause by his 
class and the audience, and there was one pair of eyes that flashed 
admiration and, maybe, with a warmer sentiment, when she saw 
a red rose pinned to the flowing robe of the student's gown. His 

202 



subject was "Patriotism." When his clear ringing voice had ceased 
to echo through the great hall, such had been his power and so 
noble his sentiments that all knew that no temptation, no mines 
of gold, no lofty place could win him from duty and his country, 
and the Patriot stood before them impersonated by the orator. 
While the audience was cheering, and the faculty was congratul- 
ating, a beautiful bouquet of Red Roses was carried to him, and 
attached to the bouquet was a card — " Congratulations from the 
'Queen of the Red Rose/ " Richard's heart gave a great jump, 
and he flashed his eye over the audience, but a veil had come down 
over a flushed face, and. his search failed to find the sender of the 
mysterious bouquet. Major Castro had left his sister and min- 
gled with the audience, and it was a happy meeting of the two 
friends from a foreign nation. Richard accepted an invitation 
to meet his friend at the hotel at three o'clock to be introduced 
to his sister, who had accompanied him from Mexico. When 
Richard arrived at the hotel, Carrie Isabella Castro was in the 
parlor with her back turned to the door, and Major Castro and 
Richard entered and, " Carrie, my sister, I wish to introduce to 
you my good friend Richard King, of Texas and Mexico." She 
turned round with a glorious smile and sparkling eyes and blush- 
ing face and extended hands and said, "My King Richard, My 
King of the Red Rose, it has been a long time!" For a moment 
Richard trembled and his face was as red as the rose he wore, then 
the recognition of the beautiful woman before him as the girl 
of '36 flooded his heart with rapturous joy, and he sprang forward 
and fell upon his knees and covered her hands with kisses, ex- 
claiming, "My Queen, My Queen, have I found you at last?" 
and he stood up before her and devoured her blushing face with 
eyes of devotion. "And you tell me that you have been near 
enough to call me for a year, and never let me know who you were 
and where you were? That was cruel; how happy I would have 
been had I known you were so near me. And my friend Castro 
here has almost been a traitor to friendship when he kept from 
me the secret that my Queen Isabella was his sister Carrie and was 
spending a year near the College. How could you both treat 
me so?" "Why, I don't think we have been cruel or traitors to 

203 



our friendship; I had lost all traces of you, years had passed and 
of course, you had forgotten the forward little girl of the flower 
garden and had thrown away the red rose she gave you. You 
said you would see me before ten years had gone away. I didn't 
know but that you were sitting in the shade of some beautiful 
home near the Gulf, or the western valleys of the Pacific, or among 
the mountains of gold and silver, and — with some sweet woman by 
your side." "Oh! you knew better, you knew better, I knew you 
had faith in what I said, for you looked into my eyes and saw what 
I meant. " "Well, after many years, my brother told me of a cadet 
that fought a duel and was banished from his country for five 
years, and when he called your name, I knew you, and I would 
not make myself known to you and I resolved to see what the ten 
years would do for you. One more year will finish the decade, 
but we do not know what the future will bring." "Oh yes, I know 
what it will bring. I can read the future of my heart as it has 
been written there nine years." "Well we will not discuss the 
future or trust it, for there are many doubts, and the storm clouds 
hovering over my country may bring about many unhappy 
changes." "I shall not again lose you among the multitudes 
nor allow any events to hide you from me. And before this year 
is closed I only want one word from you, and then two words at 
the altar, and then I will tell you of the result of a great bet I 
made with my companion as we passed from you so long ago." 
"Yes I have heard something about a bet you made then, and it 
was intimated that I was interested in it in some way. I would like 
to know what it was about." "It was a great bet, and when I 
shall win it, I will tell you all about it, and then if you think I 
ought to surrender what I have won, why, all right, I will see about 
it." 

Major Castro and his sister returned to Mexico by steamer 
to Vera Cruz, thence to the City of Mexico where he reported to 
his command in the army for duty, and his sister continued 
northward until she rejoined her family at Monterey. She had 
been gone from her home in the Republic of the north a whole 
year, and there was great rejoicing by her family and her friends 

204 



when her happy laugh was again heard in her native city, and she 
embraced her father and mother and dear friend, Mrs. Singleton. 

Some time after this General Castro was summoned to the 
capital to organize a brigade in the army and take command, 
for war now seemed certain. 

A few days after Richard had closed his career at Harvard 
he hastened down south and out west to Texas. He realized 
that war with Mexico was threatening, and when he arrived at 
the capital of the State, he called on the governor and offered 
his services for the invasion of Mexico. He was commissioned 
captain of cavalry and authorized to raise a company for service 
when called on. His one great desire now was to find his mother 
or to find out what had been her fate. He hastened to San Antonio 
and opened an office to receive applications to join his company 
which was to be attached to a regiment commanded by the noted 
Indian fighter, Colonel Ben McCullough. He then went to his 
ranch and consulted his manager Tarlequah. He was gratified 
to find his property in fine condition and his cattle increasing on 
his grassy hills and valleys. He told his manager that he would 
be absent for an indefinite time in the army and wanted him to 
find a good man to manage the ranch, for he wished him to go 
with him in his company. He told him also that, he was exceed- 
ingly anxious to trace his mother and find her if possible. "I 
want you," he said, "to secure six Indians of your tribe, true to 
Texas, who are good scouts and fighters, to join us, whose main 
duty will be to find out and trace the movements of the officer 
and band that captured my mother ten years ago and ascertain 
her whereabouts or her fate. They will belong to my company 
but will have the freedom to scout all over Mexico wherever a 
clew will lead them, and you are to command them." 



CHAPTER VI. 

Having arranged the affairs of his ranch, Richard left Tarle- 
quah full powers to carry out his orders, and left for the City of 
Mexico. He found the population greatly excited over the pros- 



205 



pects of war with the United States. Companies and regiments 
were being organized and brigades were forming for active ser- 
vice. He had never met General Castro but knew that he was an 
able soldier, and would take an important part in the war. He 
realized that it was a serious matter with him to oppose the father 
and brother of the lady to whom he was so much attached and to 
invade the country that had educated and cared for him for so 
many years. He appreciated the obligations due to the President 
and his family, who befriended him from his early boyhood. And 
what would be the effect of his conduct on Isabella Castro? How 
could he face her, much less claim the reward he had waited ten 
years to claim, if he fought her father and brother and turned 
against her family and home and country? These reflections 
cast a gloom of sorrow and doubt over his heart. But on the other 
side was Texas and his country, and he remembered the Alamo 
and the heroes who fell there, and a father who fought by the side 
of Crockett and gave up his life, and the mother who was torn 
from her burning home, and there was no hesitation as to which 
side he would take. He called upon the President and had a long 
interview with him. 

Santa Anna took it for granted that Richard would be true 
to Mexico and to him and his friends, and offered him the rank 
of Colonel and the command of a regiment. Richard had to tell 
him that notwithstanding his obligations to him and his family 
and his love for his friends in Mexico and the great interest he had 
there he could not fight against his native country to which he 
owed his allegiance and, if war must come, he would join his own 
people and fight with them. The President protested against his 
decision and argued earnestly with him and finally became angry 
and told him that he would forfeit every consideration of friend- 
ship and every favor intended for him and be considered an ingrate 
by his family. "I have raised you, protected you, educated you, 
loved you like a son — and this is what I receive for it." Richard 
was pale and his voice trembled as he replied, "I am profoundly 
moved by what you have said. I have loved your family and been 
true to every sentiment of honor; I have performed every duty 
required of me while a resident in Mexico; I beg of you not to 

206 



consider me an ingrate. I am only following the path of duty to 
my country as I have done to this country while living among the 
people of this city. I am a Texan and I must be true to my coun- 
try. " "Very well," said Santa Anna, "If, at the end of the week, 
you still hold to these sentiments, you will depart from Mexico 
as an enemy expelled from her borders." Richard bowed and 
returned to his hotel where he found the following note await- 
ing him. 

"Mr. Richard King: 

I have been informed that you have decided to join the in- 
vaders of our country and forget the friends and the people who 
have loved you so many years, and that you prefer to be our enemy 
instead of our friend. If this is true it is the end of all things. 
The enemy of my father, and brother, and mother, and home and 
country is also my enemy. They are on one scale and you on 
another. I must decide for them and against you. This is the 
saddest letter I ever wrote. If the report is true you need not 
seek my face again. We are strangers. 

Isabella Castro." 

Ah, this was a blow. It shook his very soul; the great object 
of his life was lost to him. Now was the great temptation. He 
took up his pen and wrote. 

"My Queen: 

You have broken my heart You have broken the ties that 
have bound my heart to you all these years. How could you? 
Didn't you know that I was living for you? You are true to your 
home and country, but you can be true to me also. If I should 
pursue any other course than that I have chosen, I would not be 
worthy of you. Don't you see that? I have not turned against 
you because you are against my country; why should you turn 
against me? I will not have it so. I will trust you against your- 
self, and when the war is over, if I am alive, I will come to you 
with a red rose from the bouquet you gave me one happy day, 
and let it plead the memory of other days in my behalf, and ask 

207 



for that one word I want from you. I trust you, I will not give 
you up. 

Yours forever, 

Richard King." 

Richard left Mexico and took steamer from Vera Cruz to 
Galveston, thence to San Antonio, where he found his company 
already organized and mounted, and Tarlequah with his six stal- 
wart Indians. War had been declared and he was ordered to 
join his regiment under Colonel McCullough with General Taylor 
on the Rio Grande. He gave special instructions to the Indian 
scouts, and full liberty to leave the company at any time and any 
place to follow any clew they might obtain for the purpose of 
finding his mother. 

When the clouds of war became so black and threatening 
between the two nations, Mrs. Singleton resolved to return to 
her own country, if possible, and informed General Castro's family 
of her wishes. They tried to persuade her to remain with them, 
but she told them how grateful she was for their kindness and 
protection, but she wished to return to her home in Texas. She 
bade good-bye to the General and his wife and embraced the weep- 
ing daughter and then took her place in the stage and started 
for her home of happy and sorrowful memories. There was a good 
priest in the stage, the Rev. Father Francis, who offered his ser- 
vices in case of trouble or danger, and they became good friends 
on the journey. 

General Taylor fought the two battles of Resaca de la Palma 
and Palo Alto, and defeated the Mexican army and then followed 
the enemy into their country. The Mexicans fell back to Mon- 
terey, and, receiving heavy reinforcements, greatly outnumbered 
the American army, they resolved to defend the city to the last 
ditch. General Taylor brought up his forces on two sides of the 
city, Albert Sidney Johnston and McCullough commanding in 
front of strong fortifications. The battle opened and was fought 
fiercely by both armies, from one line of works to another, from 
house to house, the Mexicans defending every foot of the way, 
and the Americans beating down and breaking through the walls 

208 



of the houses. At one point it seemed that the Mexicans had 
determined to defend to the last man, and the Americans could 
make no headway, the officers of the enemy righting in front of 
their men with sword and gun. Finally McCullough formed his 
Texans in four columns, one behind the other, with King's com- 
pany dismounted in front, and all flanked by the rest of his regi- 
ment and Sidney Johnston's troops. At the signal, they rushed 
forward, Richard leading and by his side Tarlequah and his In- 
dians, and leaped over the breastworks, and the battle was fought 
hand to hand with gun and bayonet and sword and pistol. The 
Mexican officers fought desperately, their General with a great 
sword striking down his enemies at every blow. One giant officer 
rushed upon Richard and aimed a terrible blow at his head, crying 
out as his blow descended, "Ah traitor, I have you at last," and 
Richard would have been a dead man had not the powerful form 
of Tarlequah leaped forward and turned the blade into his own 
body. Richard recognized his old enemy, Balboa, and closed with 
him, and the combat was terrible. All the passions of both men 
were aroused and their wonderful strength and skill were equal, 
the one stronger and the other quicker and more skilful. Finally 
the sword of Richard pierced the breast of his enemy. As he 
fell, he shouted to his men, "Kill the traitor, kill the scoundrel," 
and his men rushed upon Richard, who was staggering under his 
tremendous efforts; and that would have been his last battle but 
for his Indians, who met the rush of the enemy and after a furious 
combat, saved their Captain and slew the foremost of the enemy. 
Still the battle raged, and the Mexican General, with a sweeping 
sword, seemed to be everywhere, striking his enemies and en- 
couraging his men. Johnston had carried the works in his front, 
and turning the enemy's flank was rushing down upon them. 
Just then Richard, seeing the heroic efforts of the Mexican com- 
mander, pushed forward to his front, and a furious combat ensued. 
The Mexican w r as strong and powerful and fought savagely, and 
for a while the result looked doubtful, but the youth of Richard 
finally prevailed and the Mexican General was yielding and about 
to fall under the sword of Richard when he heard a voice that 
he recognized crying out, "King! that's my father — save my 

209 



father!" Richard sprang back just as the General's sword fell 
from his hand and young Castro, bleeding, gave up his sword. 
Richard commanded, "Stand back men, these are my prisoners. 
Castro, see if your father is hurt, he has fallen to the ground.' ' 
In the meantime the Americans had stormed the works and cap- 
tured most of the defenders. The city fell into the hands 
of the Americans and many thousands of prisoners were taken. 
General Castro and his son were paroled until they should be ex- 
changed, and made their way to the City of Mexico, where the 
family had been sent on the approach of General Taylor. 

The battle of Buena Vista soon followed. The Mexican com- 
mander, General Santa Anna, with 22,000 men demanding the 
surrender of General Taylor with his 5,000. The American com- 
mander politely declined the polite invitation of the Mexican 
commander, and the armies joined battle, which raged all the day 
long. Richard now, face to face, was fighting his old friend Santa 
Anna, and with Clay of Kentucky and Yell of Arkansas, he charged 
upon the Mexican cavalry, and the brave Americans were over- 
whelmed by the great numbers of the enemy, and Clay fell in the 
thickest of the fight and Yell gave up his life and the ground was 
covered with dead men and horses. Richard who now was in 
command, was forced back before the multitude of the enemy, 
led by his old friend Colonel Blanco, until General Taylor rode 
up to an artillery officer and said, "A little more grape, Captain 
Bragg;" and the guns were turned upon the Mexican cavalry 
and the day was saved in that part of the field. In the charge 
of cavalry Colonel Clay commanding the Americans and General 
Blanco commanding the Mexicans met and fought a fierce duel, 
both being wounded, Colonel Clay mortally. 

Santa Anna in the afternoon made a supreme effort and hurled 
10,000 men against Taylor's left wing, but they were met by the 
soldiers of Indiana and the Mississippi riflemen, and attacked in 
the flank by the cavalry; and after fighting until the sun went 
down, the Mexican attack was repulsed, and when the sun rose 
the next morning the enemy had disappeared over the mountains. 
In these attacks two of Richard's Indians had been killed, fighting 
by his side, and he had been slightly wounded. 

210 



A"ter Buena Vista, Richard's command, with others of General 
Taylor's army, was transferred to General Scott's army at Vera 
Cruz, and participated in the wonderful campaign that ended with 
the capture of the City of Mexico after many fierce battles with 
Santa Anna. The Mexican retreated with the remnants of his 
army and General Scott, with his army took possession of the city. 
Richard was again on his old familiar ground and met some of his 
old friends. Some of these received him kindly and others sullenly. 
He found that his old companion, Colonel Blanco, after distin- 
guishing himself in batt 1 e and being wounded, had been carried 
to the city hospital, and a fine lady, another Florence Nightingale, 
liad been assigned to his ward to care for the wounded, and the 
Colonel seemed to be satisfied to remain in the hospital always. 

Richard with many misgivings sought the Castro family and 
finally learned where they lived. The General had recovered 
from his wound and was looked upon as one of the heroes of the 
war, and his son was one of the distinguished heroes of the army. 
Richard rang the bell of the Castro home and sent up his card 
with this written on it, "I have come, won't you see me?" Soon 
a lovely, stately, woman, entered and stood before him. She was 
pale and agitated. Richaid held out both hands and said, "The 
war is over, your father and mother and brother are safe — I have 
trusted you, I have come because my heart compelled me. Won't 
you say. that one w T ord now — Come to me!" Her eyes were like 
stars but full of tears, her form trembled, she advanced and held 
out her hand and said "Yes." And he took her in his arms and 
murmured, "My Queen, My Queen." 

There was to be a w r edding in the great cathedral, and the 
Bishop was to perform the ceremony. General Scott and many 
of his officers were invited to be present. As the splendid couple, 
beautifully arrayed, passed down the aisle before the distinguished 
assembly and the ceremony w r as about to begin, another couple 
came down another aisle and took their stand near the first. 
They were General Blanco and his "ministering angel." Her 
veil was over her face and her head was bent low and her eyes 
were hid by the veil. The ceremony proceeded and Carrie Isa- 
bella had answered the important question by two words, "I 

211 



PEG 18 1913 

will." General Scott stepped up to congratulate him and said, 
"You have won as great a conquest as I have, and you are bre- 
veted colonel in the American army." Just at this moment 
and just as the ceremony was about to begin to unite the other 
couple, a paper, brought by an Indian, was handed to Richard 
by an officer, and he read, "We have followed the steps of your 
mother from the time she was captured until this day, and she is 
in this audience now." But the ceremony was nearly over and the 
new bride threw back her veil and said, "I will, but my name is 
not Mrs. Singleton, but Mary King of Texas." Richard leaped 
forward crying, "My mother, my mother," and she quickly 
turned and recognized her boy and cried, "O my son, my lost 
son," and fainted in his arms. There was much confusion and 
astonishment, and the first bride ran to the second bride and threw 
her arms around her and cried out, "O Richard, is this your 
mother? My dear friend, are you Richard's mother, and my new 
mother?" And a glorious happy smile transformed her counten- 
ance as she recovered and replied, "This is my husband, and this 
is my son, and this is my dear daughter.' ' Then Father Francis 
who had been made Bishop, who brought her to the city and per- 
formed the ceremony, with a happy smile, lifted his hands and 
blessed both brides and grooms. And now General Blanco stepped 
up to Richard and handing him a paper said, "Colonel King, I 
have lost my bet. Here is the deed to that silver mine." And 
Richard, receiving it, handed the deed to his wife and said, "This 
belongs to you. I have won my bet by getting you for my wife." 
She gave it to Richard's mother, and said, "I wont be won by a 
bet. Here, mother, I give it to you, and Richard has won me but 
lost his bet." Then the mother returned it to her husband and 
said, "General Blanco, I give you this deed to a silver mine. It 
has belonged to four different persons in the last five minutes and 
now I return it to its original owner, and, for losing his silver mine, 
I will give my dear son my ranch in Texas." General Scott said 
with a laugh, "This beats anything I -did to Santa Anna; they 
throw silver mines and ranches around like marbles." 

The End. 
212 



